fSBHBRHHH 


RELATION 


OF 


PSYCHOLOGY  TO  MUSIC 


BY 


E.  F.  BARTHOLOMEW,  PH.  D.,  D.  D. 

Professor  in  English  Literature  and  Philosophy  in  Augustana  College 
and  Conservatory  of  Jtusic. 


SECOND  EDITION,  REVISED. 


ROCK  ISLAND,  ILL. 

THE  NEW  ERA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 


COPYRIGHT,  1899, 

BY 
P.  E.  PETERSON  AND  A.  D.  BODFOBS. 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 

BY 
F.  E.  PETERSON  AND  K.  T.  ANDERSON. 


LUTHERAN  ATJGUSTANA  BOOK  CONCERN, 

PBINTBBS  AND  BINDERS. 


TO 

MY  PUPILS, 

WHOSE  FAITHFULNESS  AND  MANIFEST  APPRECIATION 

HAVE  INSPIRED  CHEER  AND  ENCOURAGEMENT  IN  MY  LABORS, 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  LOVINGLY  DEDICATED. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


20241C6 


PREFACE. 

The  "Relation  of  Psychology  to  Music"  was  first  published 
in  1899.  It  was  then  considered  somewhat  of  an  experiment. 
The  result  was  such  as  to  surpass  all  expectations  of  both 
author  and  publishers.  Encouraged  by  the  favorable  recep- 
tion with  which  it  has  met  and  by  the  many  enthusiastic 
expressions  of  appreciation  of  its  merits  and  value,  the  author 
herewith  gives  forth  a  new,  revised  and  stereotyped  edition. 

This  volume  consists  of  lectures  delivered  to  the  pupils 
and  faculty  of  the  Augustana  Conservatory  of  Music,  Rock 
Island,  111,  during  the  years  1897  to  1899.  At  the  request  of 
the  pupils  and  numerous  friends  these  lectures  are  here  given 
in  the  form  in  which  they  were  delivered.  This  book  is  not 
designed  to  be  an  exhaustive  treatise  on  psychology,  but  its 
object  is  to  apply  some  of  the  principles  of  psychology  to  the 
study  of  music.  The  author  freely  acknowledges  his  indebt- 
edness to  various  works  for  suggestions,  illustrations,  etc.; 
especially  those  of  James,  Halleck,  Lindner,  Davis,  Mertz, 
Tapper  and  Gates,  to  which,  with  others,  reference  is  made 
in  foot  notes.  The  numerous  quotations  are  designed  for 
illustration  and  for  bringing  together  in  topical  connection 
the  utterances  of  various  authorities,  thus  greatly  enhancing 
the  value  of  the  work  to  students.  "The  Relation  of  Psychol- 
ogy to  Music"  is,  however,  a  new  subject,  and  opens  up  an 
exceedingly  interesting  and  important  field  for  investigation. 
The  questions  at  the  end  of  each  chapter  are  added  to  aid 
students  in  preparing  for  examination  on  the  principles  of 
psychology,  where  such  examination  is  required,  and  also  to 
aid  the  general  reader  in  fixing  attention  upon  the  subject 
matter  of  the  treatise.  With  the  hope  that  music  students 


6 

in  particular  and  all  lovers  of  music  in  general,  by  the  perusal 
of  these  pages  may  be  stimulated  to  a  better  appreciation  of 
musical  science  and  art,  and  may  receive  some  suggestions 
which  shall  be  of  value  in  the  pursuit  of  their  studies,  this 
volume  is  given  to  the  public. 

E.  F.  BARTHOLOMEW. 
Rock  Island,  111.,  Jan.  i,  1903. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


Introduction 9 

CHAPTER  I.— THE  NATURE  OF  Music 12 

CHAPTER  II.— THE    PSYCHOLOGICAL   CHARACTER   OF 

Music  STUDY 26 

CHAPTER  III.— THE  MUSICAL  FACULTY 30 

CHAPTER  IV.— CONCEPT-MASS  AND  PSYCHIC  LIFE 40 

CHAPTER  V.— MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION 47 

CHAPTER  VI.— HABIT 66 

CHAPTER  VII.— ASSOCIATION 114 

CHAPTER  VIII.— MEMORY 154 

CHAPTER  IX.— IMAGINATION 195 

CHAPTER  X.— THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS 238 

CHAPTER  XL— THE  WILL 271 

Index..  ..277 


INTRODUCTION. 

IN  recent  years  a  new  movement  has  sprung  up  in 
the  musical  world.  A  quiet  but  far  reaching  revo- 
lution in  methods  of  studying  and  teaching  music 
is  now  going  on.  This  movement  is  not  superficial 
and  temporary:  it  grows  out  of  fundamental  prin- 
ciples. A  new  conception  of  musical  art  is  working 
its  way  into  the  popular  mind  and  is  rapidly  trans- 
forming the  current  notions  about  musical  education. 
Only  a  few  years  ago  harmony  and  perhaps  a  glance 
at  counterpoint  were  considered  quite  enough  for  the 
average  student;  anything  more  was  considered  a 
mere  accomplishment,  not  a  necessary  part  of  a 
musical  education.  Even  yet  to  a  certain  extent  har- 
mony is  a  sealed  book,  not  only  to  the  majority  of 
advanced  pupils,  but  even  to  many  teachers. 

Progress  in  musical  education  has  lagged  behind 
chiefly  on  account  of  two  extreme  and  radically  wrong 
views  as  to  the  nature  of  music:  first,  that  music  is 
almost  exclusively  a  matter  of  practice,  and  secondly, 
that  it  belongs  to  the  realm  of  pure  genius,  in  which 
no  rules  and  principles  are  to  be  recognized.  But 
music,  on  the  one  hand,  is  more  than  practice,  more 
than  finger-gymnastics;  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not 
the  exclusive  prerogative  of  so-called  genius,  what- 
ever that  may  mean— music  may  be  cultivated  by 
those  who  are  not  geniuses  in  the  proper  sense  of  that 
word.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  the 
ability  to  read  notes,  together  with  a  certain  amount 
of  vocal  and  digital  skill,  constitutes  a  musical  educa- 
tion. According  to  the  present  conception,  a  musical 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

education  includes  a  fair  degree  of  acquaintance  with 
numerous  other  allied  subjects,  such  as  aesthetics, 
acoustics,  physiology,  literature,  history  of  music, 
biography,  in  short,  all  the  numerous  elements  relat- 
ing to  music  both  as  a  science  and  as  an  art,  both 
theoretical  and  practical.  A  well  taught  music  pupil 
must  know  not  only  how  to  read  well,  to  finger  cor- 
rectly, and  even  to  play  a  modern  sonata  or  fantasia 
with  a  degree  of  artistic  skill,  but  he  must  also  have 
a  sufficiently  broad  and  thorough  general  culture  to 
enable  him  to  judge  correctly  concerning  the  ethical 
and  aesthetical  meaning  of  the  compositions  he  plays. 
Not  only  the  fingers  and  hands  and  voice,  but  also 
the  mind  must  be  well  trained.  There  is  a  demand  for 
a  broader  intellectual  foundation  for  the  study  of 
music.  The  expansive  and  strengthening  and  sharpen- 
ing influence  of  knowledge  is  needed  quite  as  much  for 
the  calling  of  a  musician  as  for  any  other  calling. 
Whatever  adds  to  our  general  power  of  efficiency, 
adds  just  so  much  to  our  musical  ability  and  re- 
sources. 

In  regard  to  methods  of  teaching  music,  the  change 
now  going  on  is  just  as  radical.  Many  of  the  old  ways 
and  ideas  are  discarded,  not  only  because  they  are 
found  wanting,  but  because  they  are  positively  vi- 
cious as  being  contrary  to  the  nature  of  mind  as  well 
as  of  muscles  and  nerves.  The  demand  of  the  present 
is  that  methods  of  music  teaching  be  based  on  sound 
pedagogical  and  rational  principles.  This  movement 
in  regard  to  musical  education  is  only  part  of  a  much 
broader  movement  in  general  education,  for  musical 
education  rests  on  the  same  principles  as  any  other 
branch  of  education. 

What  has  brought  about  the  change  of  which  we 


INTRODUCTION.  II 

speak?  Chiefly,  the  study  of  psychology.  Psycholo- 
gy is  now  regarded  as  the  fundamental  science,  the 
science  which  must  shape  the  methods  of  studying 
and  teaching  every  other  subject.  Correct  scientific 
knowledge  of  the  mind  and  of  its  several  modes  of 
activity,  together  with  knowledge  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, is  at  the  bottom  of  everything  pertaining  to 
methods  and  substance  of  educational  work. 

Teaching  became  a  science  and  assumed  a  normal 
and  rational  form  only  as  psychology  furnished  the 
motive  and  prepared  the  way.  Pedagogical  science 
rests  on  knowledge  of  the  mind,  whether  applied  to  the 
learning  or  the  teaching  of  subjects.  In  recent  days 
it  has  come  to  be  understood  that  psychology  stands 
in  most  important  relation  to  music  and  the  study 
of  music.  The  subject  is  rapidly  growing  into  favor 
among  music  students  and  teachers  all  over  the 
country,  as  may  easily  be  inferred  from  the  current 
musical  literature.  The  signs  of  the  times  indicate 
that  along  this  line  are  to  be  achieved  the  best  results 
of  progress  for  the  years  to  come.  Psychology  is 
gradually  making  its  way  into  the  conservatories  of 
the  country  and  is  rapidly  transforming  the  tradi- 
tional courses  of  study  and  methods  of  teaching. 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  new  movement  in  the  musical  world? 

2.  From  what  has  this  movement  sprung? 

3.  Why  has  progress  in  musical  education  lagged  behind? 

4.  Describe  the  new  conception  of  musical  education. 

5.  What  is  said  of  methods  of  teaching  music? 

6.  What  has  the  study  of  psychology  effected? 

7.  Why  is  the  study  of  psychology  important  to  the  music 
student? 


THE   NATURE  OF  MUSIC. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Nature  of  Music. 

T'  E  design  of  this  chapter  is  to  gain  an  advan- 
tageous point  of  outlook  for  our  subject.  In 
order  to  discuss  the  relation  of  psychology  to 
music  the  two  related  things  must  be  separately 
brought  into  view,  especially  those  aspects  of  them 
which  nave  manifest  reciprocal  bearings.  As  our  sub- 
ject is  mainly  philosophical  in  its  nature  and  prin- 
ciples, we  must  bring  into  view  the  philosophical  side 
of  music.  Though  philosophical  in  its  principles,  our 
subject  is  yet  profoundly  simple  and  eminently  prac- 
tical. It  is  not  something  so  lofty  that  only  the 
learned  can  understand  it,  but  if  rightly  presented  it 
comes  home  to  the  comprehension  of  the  common 
people. 

Hitherto  comparatively  little  progress  has  been 
made  along  the  line  of  scientific  investigation  of  the 
nature  of  music.  Even  in  our  day  music  can  hardly 
be  said  to  be  grounded  on  a  scientific  basis,  for  it  has 
not  wholly  passed  out  of  its  mystical  stage.  For  this 
slow  progress  various  reasons  may  be  given,  which  it 
is  not  necessary  here  to  explain  in  detail.  In  general, 
it  may  be  said  that  music  is  one  of  the  latest  of  the 
arts  to  develop.  For  a  long  time  it  stood  apart  from 
the  other  related  arts  as  if,  like  religion,  it  was  con- 
sidered too  sacred  to  be  subjected  to  the  rude  process 
of  analysis.  Then,  too,  music  has  been  imagined  to 
belong  to  the  transcendental  realm  of  genius,  in  which 


ART  RESTS  ON  SCIENCE.  13 

ordinary  scientific  principles  are  supposed  to  have 
only  doubtful  application.  The  art  side  of  music  has 
been  unduly  exalted  to  the  detriment  of  the  science 
side.  But  a  true  philosophy  recognizes  the  fact  that 
every  true  art  must  rest  on  a  basis  of  science,  and 
without  this  basis  of  science  there  can  be  no  real  prog- 
ress hi  art.  Musical  art  is  not  an  exception:  it  rests 
on  a  musical  science  just  as  truly  as  the  art  of  surgery 
rests  on  the  science  of  anatomy  and  physiology.  To 
ignore  this  simple  principle  is  to  envelop  the  true  na- 
ture of  music  in  clouds  of  mist  or  to  plunge  it  into  the 
chaotic  deep  of  ignorance  and  superstition.  To  this 
must  be  added  that  the  old  traditional  view  has 
made  everything  of  the  outward  mechanical  side  of 
music  and  has  utterly  neglected  the  in  ward  psycholog- 
ical and  thought  element. 

Surrounded  thus  by  prejudices  and  fettered  by 
traditional  misconceptions,  it  is  not  strange  that 
music  has  lagged  behind  in  scientific  development. 
When  it  shall  have  been  freed  from  its  grave-bands  of 
mediaeval  mysticism,  it  will  rise  into  a  new  life  and 
will  go  forward  into  a  greater  field  of  usefulness.  In 
recent  times  science  has  dared  to  lay  its  profane 
hands  upon  the  sacred  subject  of  music,  and  now  in- 
sists upon  applying  its  methods  of  analysis  and  syn- 
thesis, of  observation  and  experiment,  of  comparison 
and  induction  to  matters  which  before  were  supposed 
to  transcend  all  such  tests.  The  result  is  that  the 
nature  of  music  is  better  understood  now  than  ever 
before,  and,  instead  of  being  the  exclusive  possession 
of  a  favored  few,  music  has  been  brought  down  from 
its  airy  height  to  the  homes  and  business  of  the  com- 
mon people. 


14  THE   NATURE   OF   MUSIC. 

Musical  Phenomena.  —  To-day  music  has  its  phe- 
nomena just  as  any  other  subject  of  investigation, 
and  these  phenomena  are  not  considered  inscrutable 
mysteries  but  capable  of  scientific  explanation.  The 
various  facts  about  music,  in  so  far  as  they  are  facts 
of  observation,  have  their  causes  just  as  truly  as  the 
facts  of  nature  and  of  common  experience;  these 
causes  can  be  studied  and  accurately  ascertained. 
Music  has  its  fixed  principles  and  laws,  which,  when 
known,  can  be  applied  to  the  making  of  improvements 
in  the  art,  both  in  relation  to  theory  and  to  practice. 
For  example,  we  all  know  that  a  major  chord  and  a 
minorchord  do  not  affect  the  ear  in  the  same  way  nor 
do  they  awaken  the  same  kind  of  feeling;  it  is  no 
mystery  but  an  explainable  phenomenon. 

The  major  keys  are  generally  adapted  to  sentiments 
of  gayety,  pleasure,  contentment,  while  the  minor 
keys  are  suited  to  the  expression  of  sorrow,  pity,  fear, 
melancholy,  pathos,  etc.  Gretry,  in  his  "Essays  in 
Music,"  says:  "The  key  of  C  major  is  noble  and  frank, 
that  of  C  minor  is  pathetic.  The  key  of  D  major  is 
brilliant,  that  of  D  minor  is  melancholy.  The  key  of 
E  flat  is  grand  and  also  pathetic;  it  is  a  semitone 
higher  than  D  major,  and  still  does  not  in  the  least 
resemble  it.  By  ascending  again  a  semitone,  we  reach 
the  key  of  E  major,  which  is  as  sparkling  as  the  pre- 
ceding one  was  grand  and  melancholy.  The  key  of  E 
minor  is  rather  sad,  although  it  is  the  first  minor 
scale  in  nature;  that  of  F  major  is  mixed;  that  of  F 
minor  is  the  most  pathetic  of  all;  the  key  of  F  sharp 
major  is  hard  and  sharp,  because  it  is  overloaded 
with  accidentals;  the  key  of  G  major  is  warlike  and 
not  as  grand  as  C  major;  the  key  of  G  minor  is  the 
most  pathetic,  except  that  of  F  minor.  The  key  of 


CHARACTER  OF  KEYS  AND  INSTRUMENTS.  15 

A  major  is  very  brilliant;  that  of  A  minor  is  the 
simplest,  least  brilliant  of  all.  The  key  of  B  flat  is 
grand,  but  less  so  than  C  major,  and  more  pathetic 
than  F  major;  B  major  is  brilliant  and  gay,  while 
B  minor  is  adapted  to  express  sincerity  and  artless- 
ness."  In  general,  all  the  minor  keys  are  tinged  with 
melancholy  and  sadness,  while  the  major  keys  are 
brilliant  and  lively.  It  appears  thus  that  each  key 
has  its  special  character  and  awakens  emotions  pe- 
culiar to  itself.  This  fact  rests  on  a  scientific  ground 
and  may  be  satisfactorily  explained. 

What  has  been  said  of  the  several  keys,  may  also 
be  said  of  the  various  musical  instruments.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  timbre  of  the  sounds  produced  by  the 
various  instruments,  all  of  which  the  physicist  has 
carefully  analyzed,  there  is  a  deeper  and  more  subtle 
difference  between  them.  Each  kind  of  instrument 
has  its  definite  character,  just  as  persons  have  their 
particular  character  by  which  one  differs  from  an- 
other. Says  Chomet:  "The  bassoon  is  mournful; 
consequently  it  should  be  employed  in  expressing  sor- 
row and  pathos.  The  clarionet  is  suitable  for  the  ex- 
pression of  grief;  and  if  it  is  used  for  rendering  merry 
music,  the  same  is  sure  to  be  tinged  with  sadness.  .  .  . 
The  flute  is  sweet  and  tender;  it  is  best  adapted  to 
express  the  sweet  delight  of  a  happy  and  tranquil 
lover.  The  trombone  is  sweet  and  harrowing.  The 
trumpet  excites  frenzy  and  martial  ardor.  The  violin 
seems  suited  to  express  all  the  sentiments  common  to 
humanity,  but  the  viola  ought  to  be  reserved  for 
songs  of  a  tender  melancholy."  The  guitar  is  plain- 
tive and  soothing;  the  drum  and  fife  are  rousing  and 
warlike.  Milton,  the  poet,  philosopher,  and  musician 
that  he  was,  has  given  us  a  striking  example  of  the 


jg  THE  NATURE  OF  MUSIC. 

facts  under  consideration  in  his  "Paradise  Lost."  Of 
the  fiends  arrayed  in  martial  order  on  the  burning 
plains  of  hell  regions,  he  says: 

"Anon  they  move 

In  perfect  phalanx  to  the  Dorian  mood 
Of  flutes  and  soft  recorders;  such  as  raised 
To  height  of  noblest  tempers  heroes  old 
Arming  to  battle,  and  instead  of  rage 
Deliberate  valor  breathed,  firm,  and  unmoved 
With  dread  of  death  to  flight  or  foul  retreat; 
Nor  wanting  power  to  mitigate  and  swage 
With  solemn  touches  troubled  thoughts,  and  chase 
Anguish  and  doubt  and  fear  and  sorrow  and  pain 
From  mortal  or  immortal  minds.    Thus  they, 
Breathing  united  force  with  fixed  thought, 
Moved  on  in  silence  to  soft  pipes  that  charmed 
Their  painful  steps  over  the  burnt  soil." 

— Bk.  I,  549—562. 

The  "Dorian  mood"  here  referred  to  was  serious 
and  grave,  as  the  Lydian  was  soft  and  the  Phrygian 
sprightly.  Manifestly  the  Phrygian  mood  would 
have  been  incongruous  to  the  place  and  spirit  of  the 
occasion,  and  the  poet's  delicate  sense  of  propriety 
does  not  allow  his  pen  to  make  such  a  blunder.  The 
Dorian  mode  was  the  first  of  the  "Authentic"  church 
modes  or  tones.  Many  of  the  old  German  chorales 
were  written  in  this  mode,  such  as  "Vater  Unser," 
"Wir  glauben  Alle,"  "Christ  unser  Herr  zum  Jordan 
kam,"  etc.  For  longer  compositions  in  this  mode, 
see  Orlando  Lasso's  5-part  motet,  "Animam  meam," 
and  the  fugue  in  Bach's  "Toccata."  It  is  related  that 
Pythagoras,  seeing  a  young  man  transported  with 
rage  and  on  the  point  of  destroying  his  faithless  mis- 
tress, begged  a  musician  to  play  some  air  in  the  Dori- 
an mode.  Thereupon  the  anger  and  excitement  of  the 
betrayed  lover  gave  place  to  the  most  perfect  calm- 


PHYSIOLOGICAL   ELEMENT.  17 

ness,  and  he  renounced  all  plans  of  revenge.  We  can 
easily  imagine  that  when  David  played  on  his  harp 
to  soothe  the  frenzied  spirit  of  king  Saul,  he  played  in 
the  Dorian  mode. 

The  foregoing  facts  are  only  a  few  examples  of 
musical  phenomena.  There  are  discoverable  reasons 
why  the  quality  and  spirit  of  music  in  one  key  differ 
from  those  in  another  key.  The  effects  of  the  several 
keys  on  the  mind  are  psychological  phenomena  and 
are  capable  of  analysis  and  explanation.  Here  is 
open  a  wide  and  wonderfully  rich  field  for  investiga- 
tion which  when  fully  explored  must  yield  valuable 
results  in  various  practical  directions.  Psychology 
must  lead  the  way  in  these  investigations;  psycholo- 
gy alone  can  furnish  the  key  for  unlocking  these  hid- 
den treasures. 

From  such  a  point  of  outlook  and  with  such  a 
background  to  our  subject,  we  approach  the  ques- 
tion, 

What  is  the  Nature  of  Uusic?  Two  general  classes  of 
views  may  be  noted,  namely,  the  subjective  and  ob- 
jective, music  as  idea  and  music  as  form.  But  these 
in  their  bare  statement  are  of  little  scientific  value, 
and  evidently  are  not  sufficient;  something  deeper, 
more  definite,  more  scientific  is  demanded  by  the  stu- 
dent of  to-day. 

In  a  question  of  this  kind  the  true  mode  of  pro- 
cedure is  manifestly  not  dogmatic  statement  of 
opinion  but  analysis  and  induction.  Analysis  of  the 
musical  consciousness  reveals  the  fact  that  our  musi- 
cal sensations  are  complex  in  their  nature,  bodily 
process  being  blended  with  mental  processes. 

The  Physiological  Element.  In  all  music  there  is  pres- 
ent a  physiological  element.  Music  stands  partly  in 


jg  THE  NATURE  OF  MUSIC. 

sound  sensation.  To  this  corresponds  the  auditory 
apparatus,— external  and  internal  ear— the  "harp  of 
a  thousand  strings,"  or  rather,  ten  thousand  strings. 
External  sound  waves  act  as  stimuli  to  the  sensitive 
auditory  nerve  which  conveys  these  effects  inward  to 
the  brain  hemispheres,  where  somehow  the  physical 
vibrations  are  transformed  into  sensations  of  musical 
sounds  or  of  noises.  So  far  the  process  has  a  physio- 
logical basis.  To  this  may  be  added  the  pleasurable 
effect  of  musical  notes.  Pleasure  in  musical  notes  is 
a  fact  of  universal  experience.  Children,  it  is  said, 
have  been  known  to  manifest  distinct  pleasure  on 
hearing  music  as  early  as  the  tenth  day  after  birth. 
This  is  perhaps  wholly  a  physiological  effect,  due  to 
rhythm.  The  baby  finds  delight  in  rhythmical  noises; 
so  the  savage,  in  the  sounds  produced  by  his  rude  in- 
struments. The  rhythmical  movements  of  the  feet  or 
fingers,  e.  g.,  in  the  act  of  imitating  the  sound  of  the 
millstone,  produce  a  pleasurable  effect.  To  this  class 
of  effects  belongs  the  fascination  of  the  dance,  due 
partly  to  auditory  and  partly  to  optical  rhythm.  In 
all  these  cases  the  agreeable  effect  depends  largely, 
perhaps  entirely,  on  the  rhythmical  succession  of 
sounds  as  perceived  by  the  ear,  and  not  on  any  men- 
tal analysis  of  the  sounds  giving  certain  rational  or 
moral  qualities,  as  in  the  case  of  the  higher  musical 
tones,  e.  g.,  those  of  the  piano  string,  organ  pipe,  hu- 
man voice,  etc. 

The  Form  Theory.  The  Herbartian  school  of  psychol- 
ogy seeks  to  reduce  all  musical  experience  to  form. 
The  formal  part  is  the  real  part  of  music.  This  formal 
part  consists  not  of  the  mental  product,  but  of  the 
elementary  nature  of  tones  as  determined  by  the  ex- 
citement of  the  nerves.  The  charm  of  sound,  the  sen- 


THE  FORM  THEORY.  19 

sation  it  excites  in  us,— this,  they  say,  constitutes  the 
essential  subject  matter  in  every  piece  of  musical  art. 
Of  course  this  theory  grounds  the  musical  effects  of 
sounds  essentially  in  physiology.  If  it  does  not  leave 
the  mind  of  the  artist  entirely  out  of  consideration,  it 
at  least  crowds  mind  or  the  thought-factor  in  music 
so  far  into  the  background  as  to  have  very  little 
value,  relatively  speaking.  It  does  not  sufficiently 
recognize  that  ideal  element  which  we  think  and  shall 
try  to  show  later  on,  constitutes  the  deeper,  the  resid- 
ual, the  essentially  aesthetic  factor  in  all  of  the  best 
music  in  the  world.  The  form  theory  says  in  sub- 
stance that  finger-music  is  everything  and  soul-music 
is  nothing.  Butthecommon  sense  of  mankind  will  not 
accept  this  as  true.  The  fact  is  that  the  physiological 
element  is  not  the  whole  of  sound-experience;  there  is 
something  higher  in  musical  sounds  than  mere  sen- 
suous delight.  The  pleasure  of  music  is  not  all  in  the 
ear,  any  more  than  the  beauty  of  a  landscape  is  all  in 
the  eye.  We  can  never  explain  Beethoven's  ninth 
symphony  by  saying  that  it  is  nothing  more  than 
the  excitement  of  our  nervous  system  by  means  of 
external  sound  waves.  Did  Haydn  think  that  the 
charm  and  beauty  and  power  of  his  great  master- 
piece, the  "Creation,"  consisted  in  nothing  else  than 
nerve  excitation?  That  is  not  what  we  would  infer 
from  his  utterance  when,  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Vienna  where,  on  March  7,  1808,  in  the 
presence  of  the  author,  the  immortal  production  was 
performed,  pointing  towards  heaven  and  with  tearful 
eyes  he  exclaimed,  "It  comes  from  there!"  Did  he 
think  the  music  of  his  oratorio  came  from  his  fingers 
or  from  his  soul? 


20  THE  NATURE  OF  MUSIC. 

The  Spiritual  or  Psychic  Element.  Music  consists  of 
more  than  sense  excitation;  there  is  present  a  deeper 
spiritual  element,  which  gives  it  its  true  character. 

Helmholtz  says:  "We  have  to  distinguish  between 
the  material  ear  of  the  body  and  the  spiritual  ear  of 
the  mind."  Music  in  its  highest  qualities  "proceeds 
from  a  spiritual  source  and  addresses  itself  to  the 
'spiritual  ear.' "  Music  is  preeminently  the  art  of  the 
intellect,  though  not  generally  so  regarded.  Its  true 
substance  is  thought,  and  not  mere  sensuous  excite- 
ment. Music  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  aesthetic  nature 
of  the  soul.  "Without  mental  activity  no  aesthetic 
enjoyment  is  possible,"  for  the  aesthetic  emotions  are 
results  of  intellectual  activity.  The  spiritual  element 
is  farther  evident  from  the  presence  and  influence  of 
an  absolute  ideal  in  musical  art.  All  great  musical 
artists  agree  that  there  is  present  in  music,  just  as  in 
poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  etc.,  an  absolute  ideal 
according  to  which  their  compositions  take  shape. 
Some  one  has  said,  "Music  is  architectural,"  that  is, 
it  consists  in  a  process  of  construction  according  to 
an  ideal.  Music  may  be  regarded  as  the  expression 
of  our  ideal  strivings  after  a  fuller  knowledge  of  the 
reality  of  spiritual  being  in  nature.  Musical  art  pre- 
supposes the  existence  of  a  Being  in  whom  all  the 
ideal  strivings  of  the  artist's  soul  after  perfect  beauty 
are  realized. 

The  spiritual  element  is  the  most  important  part — 
the  soul  of  music.  It  is  this  that  makes  it  such  a 
mighty  power  in  the  world. 

As  Congreve  sings: 

"Music  hath  charms  to  soothe  a  savage  breast, 
To  soften  rocks,  or  bend  a  knotted  oak; 
I've  read  that  things  inanimate  have  moved 


THE  POWER  OF  MUSIC.  21 

And,  as  with  living  souls,  have  been  informed, 
By  magic  numbers  and  persuasive  sound." 

Ancient  mythology  is  full  of  references  to  the  mar- 
velous power  of  music.  Apollo  soothed  the  vigilant 
Argus  to  sleep  with  his  lyre.  Orpheus,  by  his  song 
and  the  tones  of  his  lyre  tamed  the  fierceness  of  beasts, 
moved  rocks  and  trees,  lulled  to  sleep  Cerberus,  the 
watch  dog  of  hell,  charmed  the  evil  spirits  of  Hades, 
etc.  Amphion  built  the  walls  of  Thebes  by  the  magical 
power  of  his  lyre.  When  he  played  the  stones  moved 
and  voluntarily  formed  themselves  into  walls  and 
turrets.  What  did  the  ancients  mean  by  these  myths 
and  stories?  They  meant  the  power  of  mind  and 
heart,  expressed  through  musical  sound,  over  the 
lower  orders  of  existence — it  is  their  way  of  saying 
that  thought  and  will-power  dominate  the  world. 

Audible  sound,  i.  e.,  the  outward  form,  is  not  an 
absolute  necessity  of  music.  Beethoven,  who  became 
deaf  at  the  age  of  thirty,  could  hear  only  the  music  of 
the  heart.  Though  his  outward  ear  was  closed  and 
no  sounds  from  without  could  invade  his  inner  audi- 
torium, His  "spiritual  ear"  was  wonderfully  acute. 
"What  soul-music  must  he  have  heard  as  he  wandered 
lonely  through  fields  and  valleys,  with  no  sound  from 
the  outer  world  to  disturb  the  music  within!" 

Says  Dr.  Mertz:  "The  great  tone  masters  were  men 
of  noble  souls;  they  were  endowed  with  deep  emo- 
tional natures;  hence  it  is  that  their  music  lifts  us  up 
to  a  higher  sphere  as  we  listen  to  the  beatings  of  their 
own  hearts.  ...  If ,  then,  the  masters  wrote  from  the 
heart,  if  they  heard  much  silent  music  within,  which 
they  wrote  down  for  us,  those  who  aim  to  perform  it 
must  in  like  manner  sing  and  play  with  the  best 
powers  of  their  hearts  and  minds.  .  . .  Every  student 


22  THE   NATURE   OF   MUSIC. 

should  aim  at  this  power  of  reproducing  the  true 
heart  music  as  it  lies  hidden  in  the  notes.  .  .  Music  has 
a  higher  mission  than  merely  to  please  the  ear.  It  is 
the  art  which  appeals  most  powerfully  to  the  heart, 
and  through  this  affects  our  characters.  The  idea 
that  music  has  no  higher  influences  than  simply  to 
produce,  for  the  time  being,  pleasant  sensations,  has 
done  much  harm  to  the  progress  of  the  art,  in  schools 
as  among  the  people,  for  it  has  caused  many  thinking 
men  to  regard  music  with  a  degree  of  suspicion. 
We  must  aim  to  be  intelligent  students;  we  must 
strive  to  see  more  in  music  than  mere  pleasurable 
sensations;  we  should  study  it  as  an  art,  hence  we 
must  become  artists;  that  is,  we  must  be  imbued  with 
the  highest  love  for  and  the  best  understanding  of 
what  we  study.  To  make  it  a  refining,  elevating 
medium,  we  must  not  merely  be  players  and  singers, 
but  also  art  students;  we  must  strive  to  become 
thinking  as  well  as  feeling  musicians." 

All  these  remarks  powerfully  emphasize  the  intel- 
lectual and  spiritual  element  in  music.  Music,  that  is, 
in  outward  form,  is  the  natural  language  through 
which  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  soul  express 
themselves.  Language  has  value  only  as  it  serves  to 
express  ideas.  Music  is  a  universal  language,  the  lan- 
guage of  the  brotherhood  of  mankind.  It  is  the  only 
language  which  all  souls  can  understand,  even  though 
their  tongues  differ,  it  is  the  true  world-language. 
Through  this  medium  soul  holds  fellowship  with  soul 
the  world  over.  Music  expresses  more  than  words;  in 
fact,  where  words  fail,  the  full  meaning  of  music  only 
begins.  Says  Wagner:  "The  tone-language  is  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  the  intellect,  just  as  the 


MUSIC  FIRST  A  CONCEPTION.  23 

myth  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  history,  and  the 
lyre  the  beginning  and  end  of  poetry." 

"That  would  indeed  be  a  small  art  that  gives  us 
only  sounds  and  no  language,  no  expressions  for  the 
conditions  of  the  soul"  (Schumann). 

The  best  music  creates  the  necessity  for  mental  ac- 
tivity, because  music  in  its  right  conception  is  essen- 
tially an  interpretation  of  the  mind's  ideas,  emo- 
tions, and  volitions.  "The  works  of  Beethoven  are 
the  stored-up  result  of  all  the  individual  heart-beats, 
all  the  individual  acts  of  memory,  all  the  glorious 
pangs  of  feeling,  all  the  efforts  of  rational  will,  which 
passed  through  the  consciousness  of  Beethoven  in  the 
course  of  his  life."  Music  tells  us  far  more  than  the 
heart  can  take  in,  hence  the  art  is  inexhaustible;  the 
deeper  we  study,  the  more  music  reveals  to  us.  A 
grand  musical  composition  expresses  the  composer's 
inner  life  far  better  than  could  the  best  biography. 
Through  his  works  we  are  made  partakers  of  his 
greatest  joys  and  deepest  sorrows,  and  on  the  pinions 
of  his  inspirations  we  rise  to  heights  we  never  reached 
before. 

Music  is  ffrst  a  Conception.  The  preceding  reflections 
have  led  up  to  the  conclusion  that  music  is  first  and 
in  its  deepest  root  a  conception  of  the  soul,  a  move- 
ment of  the  spirit.  The  formal  part  of  music  is  there- 
fore secondary;  it  has  to  do  with  expression  and  is 
largely  mechanical,  just  as  language  has  for  its  office 
the  expression  of  ideas  through  outward  symbols.  As 
there  must  be  a  root  before  there  can  be  development 
into  trunk,  branches,  leaves  and  fruit,  so  there  must 
be  an  ideal  conception  before  there  can  be  an  outward 
form  of  musical  composition.  A  musical  product  is 
not  essentially  different  from  any  other  art  product. 


24  THE  NATURE  OF  MUSIC. 

The  painter,  for  example,  has  first  an  ideal  conception 
of  his  masterpiece  and  then  he  proceeds  to  express 
that  conception  in  outward  form;  so  also  the  sculp- 
tor, the  architect,  the  poet.  Music  does  not  start  in 
the  finger  tips  and  make  its  way  up  into  the  brain;  it 
starts  in  the  soul  and  flows  down  and  out  through 
the  fingers.  All  this  means  that  the  intellectual  or 
conceptual  element  in  music  should  receive  the  first 
and  greatest  amount  of  attention  on  the  part  of  the 
student.  As  music  is  primarily  a  product  of  mental 
activity,  its  phenomena  belong  to  the  realm  of  psy- 
chology and  psychology  must  give  laws  and  principles 
for  the  study  of  music. 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  Design  of  this  chapter? 

2.  How  account  for  the  little  progress  hitherto  made  in  our 
subject? 

3.  What  is  said  about  musical  phenomena? 

4.  Name  facts  about  the  several  keys. 

5.  Name  facts  about  the  various  musical  instruments. 

6.  Describe  nature  of  the  "Dorian  mood."    What  has  been 
made  of  it? 

7.  Are  these  phenomena  explicable,  and  how? 

8.  Two  general  views  about  the  nature  of  music? 

9.  Explain  the  physiological  element  in  the  musical  conscious- 
ness. 

10.  How  early  in  childhood  does  musical  perception  begin? 

11.  What  is  said  of  rhythm  in  this  connection? 

12.  Explain  the  Herbartian  form  theory. 

13.  What  objections  to  this  theory? 

14.  Incident  about  the  rendition  of  Haydn's  "Creation  "  and 
what  does  it  teach? 


QUESTIONS.  25 

15.  What  ie  said  of  the  spiritual  element  in  music? 

16.  Give  Helmholt'z  remark  about  the  "spiritual  ear." 

17.  What  is  the  ideal  in  music? 

18.  Examples  from  Mythology,  illustrating  the  power  of  music. 

19.  What  was  the  meaning  of  the  ancients  in  these  myths? 

20.  What  says  Dr.  Mertz  about  the  great  tone  masters? 

21.  What  of  music  as  a  language? 

22.  Show  that  the  thought  element  in  music  is  of  primary  im- 
portance. 

23.  Explain  statement  that  music  is  first  a  conception. 

24.  What  conclusion  follows  from  these  considerations? 


26          THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  CHARACTER  OF  MUSIC  STUDY. 

CHAPTER  H. 
The  Psychological  Character  of  Music  Study. 

AT  the  close  of  the  preceding  chapter  we  said  that 
psychology  must  give  laws  and  principles  for  the 
study  of  music.  This  is  a  very  significant  state- 
ment, and  claims  our  further  attention  in  the  present 
chapter.  If  music  in  its  root  idea  is  a  matter  of 
thought,  that  is,  if  it  is  first  a  conception  of  the  soul, 
then  it  follows  that  the  study  of  music  has  to  do  pri- 
marily with  the  operations  of  the  soul.  Hence  music 
study  must  begin  with  the  study  of  mind.  All  foun- 
dational  work,  for  example,  in  piano  study,  resolves 
itself  essentially  into  an  analysis  of  those  initial  men- 
tal states  which  give  rise  to  the  various  finger  move- 
ments in  technique  as  well  as  to  the  higher  things  of 
expression  and  interpretation.  If  the  history  of  a 
given  piece  of  music  from  its  origin  in  the  mind  of  the 
composer  through  all  its  stages  of  elaboration  to  its 
execution  and  interpretation  by  some  master  artist 
could  be  fully  written,  we  should  find  that  such  a  his- 
tory is  simply  a  series  of  correlated  mental  processes. 
In  matters  of  technique  it  is  an  observed  fact  that  ac- 
curate and  rapid  finger  movements  can  be  acquired 
best  by  focusing  the  attention  upon  the  position  and 
condition  of  the  different  organs  concerned.  It  is  in 
reality  the  brain  that  plays,  and  not  the  fingers  sim- 
ply. The  rapid  and  intricate  finger  movements  of 
the  skilful  virtuoso  are  nothing  else  than  brain  action 
originated  and  directed  by  thought,  and  rendered 


EXPRESSION  AND  MIND.  2? 

automatic  by  habit.  The  study  of  technique  is  thus 
fundamentally  a  study  of  brain  and  of  thought  pro- 
cesses. Consequently,  if  our  methods  of  studying  and 
teaching  the  piano  are  to  be  rational  and  normal, 
they  must  begin  with  the  study  of  mind. 

Again,  expression  in  playing  is  manifestly  only  the 
outward  sensuous  side  of  an  inward  mental  concep- 
tion. Before  there  can  be  any  expression,  there  must 
be  a  certain  state  of  thought  and  emotion  to  express 
or  force  into  outward  form.  The  conditions  for  a 
full,  free,  and  adequate  expression  are  all  determined 
primarily  by  mental  states.  If  a  player  is  master  of 
his  mental  states,  he  will  acquire  an  easy  mastery  of 
his  favorite  instrument,  so  that  it  will  yield  up  at  his 
command  and  give  forth  in  perfect  tones  the  elements 
of  beauty  and  power  contained  in  his  lovely  tone- 
conceptions.  If  expression  means  the  giving  forth  of 
the  spirit  of  music,  as  opposed  to  the  mere  mechan- 
ical production  of  sound,  it  must  rest  upon  the  laws 
of  mind  as  foundation.  Consequently,  the  teaching 
of  expression  must  be  preceded  by  a  mastery  of  the 
principles  of  mind  and  of  the  processes  of  mental  ac- 
tion. Those  subtle  elements  in  a  musical  perform- 
ance which  make  possible  a  clear  and  effective  presen- 
tation of  the  emotional  and  intellectual  content  of  a 
work,  can  be  mastered  only  by  a  practical  acquaint- 
ance with  the  operations  of  thought.  "For  what  man 
knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  save  the  spirit  of  man 
which  is  in  him?"  It  requires  the  exercise  of  mind 
to  grasp  and  present  correctly,  what  mind  has  con- 
ceived. 

So  also,  when  we  proceed  to  the  highest  function  of 
musical  art,  namely,  interpretation,  we  find  that  the 
same  principles  obtain.  Interpretation  deals  with  the 


28         THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  CHARACTER  OF  MUSIC  STUDY. 

thought  content  of  a  musical  composition.  The 
office  of  the  interpreter  is  to  represent  in  tone  and 
action  the  meaning  of  the  composer,to  reproduce 
the  beautiful  tone-imagery  which  occupied  the 
mind  of  the  composer  at  the  time  when  the  piece 
was  written.  From  a  thorough  study  of  the  na- 
ture and  meaning  of  a  work  the  interpreter  must 
first  form  a  correct  mind-picture  of  it,  and  then 
by  means  of  tones  set  forth  that  picture  to  the  appre- 
hension of  the  listener.  From  all  this  we  can  see  how 
much  interpretation  has  to  do  with  mind.  The  study 
of  interpretation  is  a  study  of  mind.  How  any  one 
can  teach  interpretation  without  constant  reference 
to  the  laws  of  thought  under  which  the  compositions 
he  deals  with  took  organic  form,  is  hard  to  under- 
stand. If  I  am  asked  to  explain  the  meaning  of  a 
rose,  I  know  no  better  way  to  proceed  than  to  ana- 
lyze the  rose,  and  by  a  careful  study  of  the  elements 
which  I  find,  build  up  an  intelligent  conception  of  the 
organic  processes  by  which  the  rose  grew  into  its 
given  form.  Or,  if  I  undertake  to  explain  a  master- 
piece of  poetry  or  oratory,  I  must  set  forth  the  way 
in  which  the  masterpiece  was  produced.  In  each  case 
the  process  involved  is  essentially  psychological; 
thought  is  the  great  thing  needful,  and  without 
thought  but  little  progress  can  be  made.  Perhaps,  in 
very  rare  cases,  a  musician  may  grasp  the  meaning 
of  a  piece  intuitively,  that  is,  immediately,  without 
the  conscious  and  laborious  processes  of  analysis  and 
synthesis;  but  surely  this  is  the  exception,  and  only 
serves  to  prove  the  rule.  The  rule  among  common 
people  is  that  the  meaning  of  a  composition  must  be 
mastered  by  study.  The  learner  must  thread  his  way 
back  from  the  finished  product  to  its  inception  in  the 


INTERPRETATION  AND  MIND.  29 

composer's  mind  in  the  same  line  along  which  the 
writer  proceeded  in  the  making  of  the  piece.  When  in 
this  way  the  player  is  able  to  put  himself  into  the 
composer's  view-point  and  see  the  piece  as  the  author 
saw  it,  he1  is  in  a  condition  to  interpret  correctly.  It 
matters  little  how  great  technical  skill  he  may  pos- 
sess, or  how  perfect  control  he  may  have  of  himself, 
or  how  thoroughly  he  may  understand  his  instru- 
ment, he  cannot  interpret  correctly  unless  he  has  mas- 
tered the  composer's  thought.  The  art  of  interpreta- 
tion is  but  another  name  for  the  art  of  thinking. 
How  preposterous  for  a  beginner,  who  has  not  yet 
learned  the  art  of  thinking,  to  undertake  to  interpret 
the  compositions  of  Beethoven  or  Bach!  How  much 
better  and  how  much  more  sensible  it  would  be  if  the 
beginner  had  the  humility  and  patience  to  confine 
himself  to  the  rudiments  of  technique  and  to  the 
study  of  muscles  and  nerves  and  mind,  before  he 
dares  even  to  lift  his  eyes  unto  the  heaven  of  expres- 
sion and  interpretation! 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  With  what  must  music  study  begin? 

2.  What  influence  has  mind  on  accuracy  and  rapidity  of  finger 
movements? 

3.  How  is  the  study  of  technique  a  study  of  mind? 

4.  What  is  the  relation  of  musical  expression  to  mental  states? 

5.  Why  is  the  study  of  mind  necessary  for  musical  interpreta- 
tion? 

6.  How  explain  a  rose  or  masterpiece  of  literature? 

7.  To  what  should  the  beginner  confine  himself,  and  why? 


30  THE   MUSICAL    FACULTY. 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Musical  Faculty. 

TT  is  important  to  have  a  right  conception  of  a 
I  mental  faculty.  Erroneous  views  formerly  held  in 

regard  to  the  nature  of  the  mental  faculties  have 
given  rise  to  mischievous  psychological  doctrines,  the 
influence  of  which  still  lingers.  Faculties  were  con- 
sidered as  integral  parts  of  one  whole  soul,  as,  e.  g., 
the  different  rooms  in  a  house;  the  parts  of  a  watch 
or  steam  engine;  the  keys,  pipes,  etc.,  of  an  organ;  the 
various  departments  of  the  body-politic.  Faculties 
have  also  been  regarded  as  separate  and  distinct  or- 
gans of  a  mental  organism,  as,  e.  g.,  the  organs  of 
the  human  body,  such  as  the  heart,  lungs,  stomach, 
brain,  etc.,  each  being  a  complete  machine,  as  it  were, 
within  a  machine.  Then,  too,  faculties  have  been 
spoken  of  as  distinct  agents  within  us,  which  have 
their  respective  provinces  and  authority,  which  com- 
mand, obey,  and  perform  various  acts,  as  so  many 
separate  beings. 

These  views  are  all  erroneous  and  prejudicial  to  the 
progress  of  psychological  science.  Even  as  illustra- 
tions they  serve  a  vicious  purpose.  We  must  frame 
our  definition  of  a  mental  faculty  upon  the  basis  of 
the  absolute  unity  and  indivisibility  of  the  soul. 
When  we  classify,  for  purposes  of  study  and  descrip- 
tion, the  various  operations  of  the  mind  and  assign 
these  operations  to  different  powers,  we  are  not  to 
suppose  that  we  can  divide  the  mind  into  different  com- 


FACULTY  A  MODE  OF  EXERCISE.  31 

partments,  like  so  many  pigeon-holes  in  a  secretary's 
letter  case.  No  division  of  the  soul  itself  is  possible, 
either  in  essence  or  in  energy.  In  all  mental  opera- 
tions the  acting  agent  is  one  and  the  same,  and  the 
energy  is  likewise  one  and  indivisible.  When  we  re- 
member, or  judge,  or  feel,  or  will,  the  whole  soul  acts, 
and  not  a  particular  part  or  so-called  organ  of  the 
soul. 

By  mental  faculty  we  mean  a  particular  mode  of 
the  soul's  activity.  The  human  hand  may  serve  for 
illustration.  With  the  same  hand  I  can  paint  a  pic- 
ture, chisel  a  statue,  write  a  letter,  perform  a  surgical 
operation,  read  a  page  of  raised  type,  hold  conversa- 
tion with  a  deaf-mute,  play  the  piano  or  organ,  and 
perform  a  thousand  other  offices.  In  all  these  opera- 
tions, it  is  one  and  the  same  hand  and  the  wholeh&nd 
that  acts.  So  we  are  to  represent  to  ourselves  the  so- 
called  faculties  of  the  soul— they  are  modes  of  exercise, 
forms  of  mental  activity,  definite  ways  in  which  the 
soul  puts  forth  its  energy.  Therefore,  when  we  ana- 
lyze and  classify  mental  phenomena  and  faculties,  we 
analyze  and  classify  modes  of  mental  activity.  In  our 
sense  of  the  word,  faculties  are  simple  or  complex, 
primary  or  secondary,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
mental  exercise  in  question.  From  our  standpoint  we 
may  speak  also  of  a  musical  faculty,  meaning  thereby 
that  mode  of  the  soul's  activity  which  manifests  itself 
in  musical  conceptions  and  perceptions,  musical 
ideals,  musical  emotions,  etc.  The  musical  faculty  is 
complex  in  its  nature,  involving  intellectual,  moral, 
and  aesthetic  elements,  the  aesthetic  decidedly  pre- 
dominating. 

The  Musical  Faculty  Universal.  A  question  of  practical 
interest  arises,  namely,  Is  every  soul  endowed  with 


32  THE  MUSICAL   FACULTY. 

the  musical  faculty?  Has  everybody  capacity  for 
music  and  can  anyone  learn  music?  The  idea  quite 
extensively  prevails  that  musical  gifts  are  the  exclu- 
sive possession  of  a  highly  favored  class  of  people 
called  geniuses.  Only  the  musical  genius  can  learn 
music;  or  rather,  music  is  not  something  to  be  learned 
at  all  as  other  things  must  be  learned,  but  it  is  a  direct 
gift  from  the  Creator  to  the  genius,  and  he  who  is  not 
such  a  genius  can  never  hope  to  become  a  musician. 
This  idea  belongs  to  the  shadowy  mysticism  of  the 
middle  ages,  and  its  lingering  presence  in  our  time  has 
been  a  great  barrier  in  the  way  of  progress  in  musical 
science  and  art.  It  is  a  vain  delusion  which  a  little 
knowledge  of  psychology  can  easily  dispel. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  genius  which  marks  a  broad 
distinction  between  individuals.  The  Latin  word 
genius  signifies  the  divine  nature  which  is  innate  in 
all  human  beings.  Webster  defines  genius  as  "that 
peculiar  structure  of  mind  with  which  each  individual 
is  endowed,  but  especially  mental  superiority  and  un- 
common intellectual  power."  The  man  of  genius  is 
one  who  is  endowed  with  unusual  mental  powers.  It 
is  a  matter  of  common  observation  that  mental  gifts 
vary  greatly,  but  where  the  sphere  of  the  common 
order  of  mind  ends  and  that  of  the  genius  begins  no 
one  can  determine,  for  there  is  in  nature  no  such  divid- 
ing line.  There  are  some  rarely  gifted  spirits  that  live 
and  move  in  the  high-peak  regions  and  look  down 
upon  the  world  from  "inspiration  point" ;  a  much 
larger  number  live  in  middle  altitudes,  while  the  great 
mass  of  workers  belong  to  the  lower  plains  of  life. 
To  the  first  class  belong  such  men  as  Homer,  Plato, 
Virgil,  Dante,  Shakespeare,  Beethoven,  etc.  Like  the 
high  mountain  peaks  of  earth,  they  are  few  in  number, 


GENIUS  AND  TALENT.  33 

and  far  apart  in  time.  No  one  needs  to  be  told  which 
is  Pike's  Peak  or  the  Matterhorn  among  other  neigh- 
boring peaks,  for  these  giants  bear  the  testimony  of 
their  grandeur  in  their  own  appearance ;  so  the  lofty 
spirits  of  history  need  no  title  to  speak  their  claim  to 
eminence,  for  they  have  in  themselves  the  unmistaka- 
ble marks  of  their  transcendent  greatness.  These  are 
geniuses  in  the  true  sense. 

In  the  lower  and  degraded  sense,  a  genius  is  one  who 
dabbles  in  everything  but  does  nothing  well.  If  a 
young  man  be  able  only  to  play  a  few  tunes  upon 
each  of  the  several  horns  of  a  brass  band,  immediately 
he  is  called  a  genius.  There  is  much  point  in  Josli 
Billings'  quaint  definition,  "A  genius  is  a  person  who 
thinks  he  knows  everything,  but  who  in  reality  knows 
nothing,  except  how  to  spill  'vittles'  on  his  clothes." 
Such  genius  substitutes  imaginary  gifts  for  true  merit 
and  for  hard  work.  It  is,  alas!  too  common  a  pro- 
duct of  our  age.  The  musical  world  is  not  without 
numerous  examples. 

Genius  stands  in  antithesis  to  talent,  though  often 
mistaken  one  for  the  other.  Genius  is  creative; 
talent  is  imitative,  and  inasmuch  as  men  rarely  be- 
come great  by  imitating  others,  men  of  talent  seldom 
acquire  universal  fame.  Genius  makes  its  own  laws, 
is,  in  fact,  a  law  unto  itself;  it  boldly  oversteps 
those  rules  which  minds  of  lower  order  slavishly  ob- 
serve ;  talent  follows  in  the  steps  of  genius  and  pa- 
tiently submits  to  those  rules  which  genius  dictates. 
Talent  learns  art-rules  from  books;  genius  reads  them 
within  herself.  "Talent  is  a  bird  fastened  to  a  string; 
genius  is  the  bird  unfettered."  Genius  in  a  certain 
sense  is  beyond  criticism.  The  immortal  bards,  musi- 
cians, painters,  sculptors,  etc.,  are  kings  in  the  realm 

Ptvchology.  * 


-4  THE  MUSICAL  FACULTY. 

of  art  by  a  kind  of  "divine  right,"  and  they  wield 
their  scepters  in  serene  heights  above  the  storms  of 
conflicting  opinions, selfishness  and  bigotry  which  rage 
on  the  middle  and  lower  slopes.  Genius  dares  to  do 
things  for  which  talent  would  be  severely  criticised. 
It  is  related  that  Beethoven  was  once  approached  by 
a  young  man  with  the  request  that  he  should  examine 
one  of  the  young  student's  compositions.  The  mas- 
ter made  a  few  corrections,  but  he  was  soon  reminded 
of  the  fact  that  he  himself  in  like  manner  had  over- 
stepped  the  rules.  Beethoven  smiled  and  said,  "I 
may  do  so,  but  you  dare  not." 

Genius  is  the  highest  order  of  endowment.  "The 
average  man  can  never  produce  those  works  of  art 
which  genius  produces,  no  matter  how  he  applies  him- 
self, or  who  teaches  him.  Lacking,  as  he  does,  that 
high  degree  of  sensibility  which  distinguishes  genius, 
he  fails  to  receive  those  impressions  which  genius 
alone  can  receive;  how,  then,  can  he  give  expression  to 
the  lofty  inspirations  of  the  man  of  genius?"  When 
genius  conceives  a  work  of  art,  he  does  not  take  pencil 
in  hand  and  say,  Now  I  will  write  a  grand  symphony, 
nor  does  he  prepare  colors  and  say,  Now  I  will  paint 
a  Madonna.  True  genius  is  not  so  self-conscious;  he 
knows  but  faintly  his  own  methods  by  which  he  works. 
In  every  great  masterpiece  of  genius  there  is  some- 
thing inexplicable,  something  that  does  not  yield  to 
analysis,  something  mysterious.  We  may  get  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  secret,  but  we  are  never  quite  able 
to  lay  our  hand  on  it;  in  the  last  analysis  it  is  insep- 
arable from  the  artist's  personality,  which  is  a  thing 
primary  and  not  resolvable  into  elements.  There  is 
in  highest  art  something  that  cometh  not  by  obser- 
vation: this  sacred  and  inscrutable  something  is  what 


TRUE  GENIUS  PROPHETIC.  35 

true  genius  gives  us  in  a  great  work  of  art  and  what 
distinguishes  it  from  a  common  production. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  classifies  intellects  thus: 
"One-story  intellects,  two-story  intellects,  tbree-atory 
intellects.  All  fact  collectors,  who  have  no  aim  be- 
yond their  facts,  are  one-story  men.  Two-story  men 
compare,  reason,  generalize,  using  the  labors  of  the 
fact  collectors  as  well  as  their  own.  Three-story  men 
idealize,  imagine,  predict;  their  best  illuminations 
come  from  above,  through  the  skylight.  They  are 
the  men  of  genius." 

Genius  lives  in  a  world  of  its  own,  a  world  into 
which  the  average  man  can  never  hope  to  enter. 
Genius  is  always  in  advance  of  the  times  and  sees  with 
prophetic  eye  the  best  things  of  distant  ages.  It  is 
the  lofty  mountain  peak  which  first  catches  the  rays 
of  the  rising  sun,  while  yet  darkness  and  deep  shadows 
rest  in  the  valley  below  where  the  common  people 
dwell.  As  the  eagle  soars  aloft  toward  the  source  of 
light,  while  the  little  birds  nestle  in  the  hedges  near 
the  ground,  so  genius  in  the  flights  of  its  imagination 
lives  in  regions  above  the  common  plains.  "And  as 
little  as  the  bare  eye  can  count  the  strokes  of  the 
eagle's  wings  when  it  appears  only  as  a  mere  speck 
before  the  clouds,  so  little  can  the  average  man  count 
and  comprehend  the  beatings  of  the  wild-throbbing 
heart  of  genius"  (Mertz). 

These  remarks  about  genius  truthfully  represent 
the  facts  in  the  case  as  we  see  them  in  the  various  de- 
partments of  the  art  world.  Genius  is  no  fiction,  but 
a  sublime  reality  to  which  the  wise  man  will  gladly 
show  deference  and  reverence.  With  these  facts  before 
us  we  come  back  to  our  question, 


36  THE  MUSICAL  FACULTY. 

/s  the  Musical  Faculty  Universal?  Can  anybody  be  a 
musician?  Not  everyone  can  become  a  great  musi- 
cian; not  everyone  can  be  a  genius  in  musical  art. 
No;  that  implies  a  rare  combination  of  qualities,  an 
extraordinary  degree  of  endowment  which  the  Creator 
for  wise  reasons  has  bestowed  only  upon  few  of  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  earth.  There  are  only  few 
great  mathematicians,  astronomers,  poets,  painters, 
architects,  orators,  musicians.  The  Beethovens, 
Handels,  Mozarts,  Haydns,  Mendelssohns,  Liszts, 
Bachs  are  very  rare.  To  such  a  high  degree  of  excel- 
lence, not  everyone  may  hope  to  attain. 

While  not  all  men  are  geniuses  and  have  their 
spheres  marked  out  in  the  sublime  heights,  yet  all 
have  God-given  gifts,  in  higher  or  lower  degree.  We 
may  not  have  ten  talents,  nor  five;  it  may  be  we 
have  only  one;  still  it  is  a  talent  given  us  by  our 
Creator,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  improve  that  one  talent 
to  the  best  of  our  opportunity  and  ability.  Our  gift 
is  capable  of  cultivation  and  should  receive  our 
earnest  and  conscientious  attention;  we  must  not, 
like  the  unfaithful  servant,  go  and  bury  our  talent  in 
the  earth.  There  are  many  who  compose  music, 
paint  pictures,  carve  out  statues,  make  verses,  but 
do  not  produce  such  gems  of  art  as  those  that  come 
out  of  the  workshop  of  genius;  yet  the  work  of  these 
amateurs  and  men  of  talent  is  not  to  be  despised  be- 
cause it  is  inferior  to  that  of  the  highest  genius,  for 
it  occupies  an  important  place  in  the  temple  of  art 
and  deserves  honorable  mention  in  the  history  of 
art  products. 

Yes;  doubting  soul,  whoever  you  may  be,  you  have 
the  musical  faculty,  you  may  learn  music,  you  may 
achieve  commendable  success  in  the  line  of  your 


THE  MUSICAL  FACULTY  UNIVERSAL.  37 

desires.  Application  will  tell  the  story,  earnest  work 
will  decide  your  capability  in  music  just  as  in  every- 
thing else.  Faithful  work  is  the  measure  of  success. 
Even  men  of  genius  have  always  been  hard  workers, 
diligent  students.  Be  not  deceived;  genius  is  never  a 
substitute  for  labor.  There  is  no  excellence  without 
labor.  If  you  do  not  belong  to  the  class  of  geniuses, 
you  are  a  fellow  being,  a  brother,  a  sister  of  these 
great  men,  and  this  thought  should  encourage  and 
inspire  you.  You  have  the  same  kind  of  faculties,  the 
same  modes  of  mental  activity  as  the  rest  of  man- 
kind. Every  rational  soul  has  by  creation  the  same 
faculties,  however  they  may  differ  in  their  degree  of 
development  and  efficiency. 

1  know  this  statement  is  contrary  to  the  tradition- 
al idea  and  to  the  popular  notion  about  the 
matter,  but  I  am  persuaded  that  it  rests  on 
a  sound  psychologic  foundation.  Every  normal 
human  soul  has  capacity  for  learning  arithmetic, 
history,  languages,  science,  literature,  the  arts, 
business,  stenography,  banking,  locomotive  en- 
gineering, type-setting,  house-building,  stone  cut- 
ting, etc.,  etc.;  but  not  everyone  may  be  a  master  in 
each  of  these  lines.  So  each  and  every  soul  has 
capacity  for  appreciating  and  learning  music.  In  a 
public  address,  W.  H.  Cummings,  principal  of  the 
Guildhall  School  of  Music,  London,  said:  "Not  all 
people  can  be  great  musicians,  but  children  are  born 
with  the  musical  faculty  as  well  as  with  pairs  of  eyes 
and  legs.  .  .  If  children  are  not  taught  to  make  good 
use  of  the  faculties  which  God  has  given  them,  it  is 
not  a  very  wonderful  thing  that  these  same  faculties, 
instead  of  improving,  should  become  almost  non-ex- 
istent. . .  All  may  become  excellent  and  discriminat- 


THE  MUSICAL  FACULTY. 


ing  listeners,  and  distinguish  what  is  good  and  what 
is  worthless.  No  one  can  tell  whether  a  child  may 
not  turn  out  a  Mozart,  a  Paderewski,  an  Albani,  a 
Sims  Reeves,  or  what  not,  unless  its  faculties  are  cul- 
tivated; and  it  is  the  duty  of  parents  to  give  their 
children  the  highest  possible  education  through  good 
instructors,  remembering  that  nothing  is  of  any  value 
unless  it  is  studied  with  a  really  earnest  purpose." 

The  musical  faculty  is  not  an  exclusive  gift  of  the 
favored  few.  Let  the  mischievous  delusion  that  has 
so  long  held  sway  be  dispelled  once  for  all.  Musical 
science  and  musical  art  rest  on  the  same  psychologic 
basis  as  everything  else  that  may  be  learned.  Not  a 
vague  mystical  theory,  but  solid  experimental  facts 
of  mind  must  decide  the  question.  To  this  idea  peda- 
gogical theory  in  all  branches  of  instruction  is  grad- 
ually adjusting  itself;  from  this  foundation  musical 
education  in  our  day  has  found  new  points  of  depart- 
ure. As  we  come  to  understand  the  psychological 
facts  in  the  case  we  introduce  musical  instruction  in 
the  common  schools  in  an  exact  parallel  with  instruc- 
tion in  arithmetic,  geography,  history,  language 
study,  etc.;  we  teach  children  the  rudiments  of  music 
just  as  we  teach  them  the  rudiments  of  other  subjects, 
and  do  not  once  inquire  whether  or  not  any  of  them 
have  been  destined  to  the  high  realm  of  musical  ge- 
nius. As  they  have  ears  and  eyes  and  voices  and  fin- 
gers and  minds,  we  take  it  for  granted  that  they  can 
learn  music  just  as  they  learn  anything  else. 

Who  Shall  Devote  Himself  to  Music?  Not  those  who 
can't  and  won't  study  anything  else,  not  those  who 
are  lazy  and  inflated  with  a  false  notion  of  genius, 
not  those  who  are  good  for  nothing  in  other  things. 
Who  shall  study  law,  or  medicine,  or  civil  engineer- 


QUESTIONS.  39 

ing?  Surely  not  the  idiot,  but  those  who  have  the 
finest  endowments,  the  most  enthusiastic  love  for 
study,  the  indomitable  will,  unflagging  perseverance, 
sound  mind  and  sound  nerves.  So,  whoever  has  these 
general  prerequisites  may  devote  himself  to  music 
with  a  fair  show  of  success. 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  State  wrong  conceptions  of  a  mental  faculty. 

2.  Give  definition  of  faculty  and  illustrate. 

3.  Meaning  of  musical  faculty. 

4.  What  question  of  practical  interest  arises? 

5.  What  erroneous  view  about  musical  genius? 

6.  What  is  meant  by  genius?    Give  examples. 

7.  What  is  said  of  genius  in  a  degraded  sense? 

8.  Explain  antithesis  of  genius  and  talent. 

9.  Relate    incident    about    Beethoven,   and   what    does    it 
illustrate? 

10.  Give  substance  of  quotation  from  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

11.  Why  the  foregoing  remarks  about  genius? 

12.  Can  anyone  become  a  musician? 

13.  Is   the  musical  faculty  universal?    Explain  precisely  the 
author's  standpoint. 

14.  Give  substance  of  Mr.  Cummings'  remarks. 

1 5.  Point  out  some  signs  of  the  times  in  relation  to  the  musical 
faculty. 

16.  What  must  finally  decide  our  question? 

17.  Who  should  devote  himself  to  music? 


CONCEPT-MASS  AND  PSYCHIC  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
Concept-§M*ss  and  Psychic  Life. 

X-SONCEPTS  are  ideas  formed  in  the  mind  from  sense- 
(  impressions  by  thinking,  reflecting,  reasoning, 
^-*  etc.  Soul-life  is  concept-life.  The  stream  of  con- 
sciousness at  any  moment  of  our  existence  consists  of 
concepts,  and  without  concepts  there  is  no  conscious- 
ness. By  means  of  the  several  sense-channels  a  great 
variety  of  impressions  from  the  outer  world  is  brought 
into  the  mind  as  material  from  which  to  form  ideas. 
When  we  think  of  all  the  objects  that  pass  before  the 
open  eye  in  the  course  of  a  day,  a  year,  a  life-time;  of 
all  the  sounds  that  stream  into  the  ear;  of  all  the 
odors  and  tastes  that  come  in  contact  with  their 
appropriate  nerves;  of  all  the  tactile  impacts  that 
occur  over  the  entire  area  of  the  sensitive  skin;  and 
when  we  remember  that  each  one  of  these  innumer- 
able nerve-excitations  leaves  its  impression  in  the 
respective  centres  to  be  called  up  at  any  moment  into 
a  distinct  concept  in  the  process  of  conscious  thought, 
we  begin  to  realize  how  vast  and  how  varied  in  the 
average  life  is  the  store  of  material  for  concepts. 

The  individual  concepts  starting  from  sense  percep- 
tions, do  not  stand  in  isolation,  but  each  one  is  re- 
lated directly  to  others  of  the  same  group,  and  indi- 
rectly to  all  the  rest.  No  single  concept  either  does 
or  can  stand  alone,  just  as  no  single  sense-impression 
can  be  disconnected  from  others.  The  concepts  con- 
stitute a  numerous  family,  between  each  member  of 


MODIFICATION  OF  CONCEPTS.  41 

which  there  is  a  natural  bond  of  connection.  This  is 
the  second  great  fact  that  comes  to  view  in  our  study 
of  psychic  life.  A  third  fact  immediately  follows, 
namely,  that  every  related  concept  modifies,  and  in 
turn,  is  modified,  by  its  correlative  concepts.  To 
this  related  and  reciprocally  modifying  body  of  con- 
cepts the  name  concept-mass  is  given,  a  name  very 
popular  among  German  psychologists,  especially 
those  of  the  Herbartian  school.  It  means  the  sum 
total  of  all  the  concepts,  conscious  and  subconscious, 
in  their  correlated  condition,  that  a  soul  at  any  stage 
of  its  existence  possesses.  The  word  mass  in  the 
compound  denotes  more  than  simply  a  great  num- 
ber, a  promiscuous  collection;  it  denotes  also  the 
relationship  between  the  individual  members  of  the 
collection. 

Perhaps,  at  no  moment  in  the  history  of  a  soul  can 
it  be  said  that  its  life  consists  in  one  single  and  un- 
modified concept, — soul-life  consists  always  in  a  con- 
cept-mass. Pure,  that  is,  unmixed,  sensations  and 
concepts  have  no  existence  in  reality.  Sensations 
and  concepts  as  psychic  phenomena  never  appear  in 
their  primitive  isolated  character,  but  always  in  their 
apperceived,  i.  e.,  modified  state.  Soul-life  from  the 
beginning  is  a  complex  life  and  all  its  phenomena  are 
complex.  Practically  psychology  has  to  do  with  con- 
cept-mass. The  interrelations  of  ideas  and  the  mutual 
modifications  which  ideas  undergo  when  coming  in 
contact  with  other  ideas,  are  a  subject  exceedingly 
interesting  and  instructive,  and,  from  an  educational 
point  of  view,  highly  important.  Many  great  prob- 
lems of  psychic  life  here  take  their  rise  and  find  their 
solution.  If  at  any  moment  we  have  a  certain  concept- 
mass,  with  such  and  such  consistent  ideas,  making 


42  CONCEPT-MASS  AND  PSYCHIC  LIFE. 

up  a  particular  aggregate  experience,  what  effects  will 
be  produced  if  now  new  ideas  come  in? 

In  general,  the  old  will  modify  the  new,  and  the  new 
in  turn  will  modify  the  old,  but  not  in  the  same 
degree.  The  old  ideas,  other  things  equal,  are  far 
more  powerful  than  the  new,  because  they  are  firmly 
established,  rooted,  as  it  were,  in  a  coherent  concept- 
mass,  while  the  new  ones  come  in  as  individuals,  not 
yet  fortified  by  a  network  of  relationships.  The  new- 
entering  concept  on  first  thought  appears  to  have  the 
advantage,  in  that,  on  account  of  its  novelty,  it  gains 
greater  attention,  especially  if  it  is  a  sense-percep- 
tion, whereas  the  older  concept-mass  needs  time  in 
which  to  assert  itself;  but  the  fact  is  different.  The 
older  concepts,  on  account  of  their  many-sided  con- 
nections in  the  web  of  concept-series,  are  able  to 
attract  to  themselves  more  and  more  assisting  con- 
cepts, and  so  finally  assimilate  and  absorb  the  newer. 

Many  important  educational  consequences  flow 
from  these  primary  facts  of  psychic  life.  The  process 
of  gaining  knowledge  implies  more  than  simply  bring- 
ing new  facts  into  the  mental  storehouse;  gaining 
knowledge  is  a  process  of  assimilation  of  new  ideas  in 
a  growing  concept-mass.  This  implies  that  the  suc- 
cessive items  of  instruction  to  be  worth  anything,  to 
be  of  real  value  in  soul  culture,  must  be  brought  into 
their  normal  thought-relations  in  the  mind  of  the 
pupil.  To  do  this  it  is  necessary  for  the  teacher  to 
study  the  individual  lives  of  his  pupils,  find  out  the 
exact  state  of  their  concept-life,  their  needs;  then  he 
must  adapt  his  instruction  to  the  case  in  hand.  The 
hit-or-miss  way  of  giving  instruction  is  psychologi- 
cally wrong  and  does  not  accomplish  its  end,  besides 
being  an  injury  to  the  pupil.  The  intelligent  teacher 


APPLIED  TO  EDUCATION.  43 

will  manage  to  get  acquainted  with  the  inner  life  of 
the  pupils,  will  try  to  look  out  at  things  from  their 
point  of  view,  find  out  their  prejudices,  their  likes  and 
dislikes,  their  native  reactive  tendencies;  then  he  will 
suit  his  instruction  to  the  needs  of  the  case,  he  will 
put  each  new  fact  into  its  right  relation  with  other 
facts  already  there,  he  will  seek  to  coordinate  and  or- 
ganize the  items  of  knowledge  in  the  pupil's  mind, 
just  as  the  forces  of  nature  organize  the  mineral  ele- 
ments in  the  growth  of  a  vegetable  or  animal  body; 
like  the  maker  of  mosaics,  he  will  select  and  shape 
and  polish  each  minutest  block  with  special  reference 
to  the  place  it  is  to  occupy,  he  will  bring  each  sepa- 
rate piece  into  right  relation  with  others  in  respect 
to  form  and  color,  and  thus  the  process  will  go  on 
until  the  picture  is  finished,  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a 
joy  forever.  In  this  way  the  new  facts  that  come  into 
the  pupil's  experience  will  have  an  advantage  from 
the  start,  and  so  may  reasonably  be  expected  to  bear 
good  fruit;  otherwise  they  would  lie  loose,  so  to 
speak,  in  the  mind,  as  seeds  cast  upon  the  surface  of 
the  ground. 

If  the  older  concepts  are  wrong  or  defective,  as  will 
likely  be  the  case  with  the  untrained  pupil,  it  is  the 
business  of  education  to  correct  or  improve  these. 
Our  psychology  suggests  a  rational  way  of  doing 
this.  The  older  concepts  already  in  the  concept-mass 
absorb  the  newer,  but  in  doing  so  they  are  them- 
selves modified;  the  newer  in  being  absorbed  yield 
something  of  permanent  value  to  the  growing  mass. 
Hence  the  importance  of  conveying  only  such  ideas 
as  are  full  of  life  and  vigor;  the  more  strength  they 
have,  the  greater  will  be  their  power  to  modify  the 
old  and  faulty  ones.  We  know  how  deeply  rooted  old 


44  CONCEPT-MASS  AND  PSYCHIC  LIFE. 

prejudices  and  wrong  notions  are,  and  how  difficult  it 
is  to  remove  or  modify  them.  It  is  always  dangerous 
to  tear  out  as  by  force  any  given  erroneous  ideas  in  a 
person's  concept-mass,  and  the  reason  is  not  far  to 
seek.  The  wise  teacher  will  therefore  use  other  meth- 
ods to  accomplish  his  purpose.  The  parable  of  the 
tares  suggests  an  interesting  application  of  our  prin- 
ciple. In  reply  to  the  disciples'  question,  whether 
they  should  go  and  remove  the  tares,  the  Savior 
said:  "Nay;  lest  while  ye  gather  up  the  tares,  ye  root 
up  also  the  wheat  with  them."  At  the  foundation  of 
this  utterance  lies  our  principle  of  apperception,  as  it 
has  been  called  by  some.  If  the  Great  Teacher  recog- 
nized this  principle  of  mind  in  dealing  with  error 
among  men,  so  also  should  every  other  teacher. 

Upon  this  doctrine  of  apperception,  as  we  have  un- 
folded it  above,  rest  the  facts  of  association,  memory, 
etc.  The  laws  of  habit  are  also  grounded  in  it.  In- 
deed, almost  every  psychological  and  educational 
principle  rests  on  this  doctrine  concerning  concept- 
mass.  The  study  of  psychic  life  in  whatever  form 
cannot  proceed  intelligently  without  reference  to  it  at 
every  step.  In  moral  and  religious  training  it  is  of 
vital  importance.  In  the  light  of  this  principle  is 
seen  the  wisdom  of  prepossessing  the  mind  of  youth 
with  a  body  of  sound  moral  principles  and  religious 
teachings.  Hence  the  value  of  teaching  children  from 
their  earliest  days  Bible  passages,  sacred  hymns,  pa- 
triotic sayings,  useful  maxims,  sound  principles,  etc.; 
these  make  up  a  permanent  and  solid  concept-mass 
in  which  character  shall  take  root  and  grow.  Hence 
also  the  wisdom  of  putting  the  better  class  of  music 
into  the  hands  of  beginners,  of  implanting  true  art 
principles  as  early  as  possible.  If  these  beautiful  and 


TRUE  ART  PRINCIPLES.  45 

useful  plants  can  be  made  to  grow  and  get  a  good 
start  in  the  minds  of  the  young,  they  will  gradually 
absorb  and  render  harmless  many  a  noxious  weed 
that  may  come  into  the  soil  later  on.  Let  the  pure 
love  of  art  send  its  roots  deep  down  and  all  through 
the  child's  concept-mass,  then  there  will  be  a  good 
foundation  for  a  right  artistic  education,  then  will 
the  unfolding  soul-life  be  rich  and  interesting  and 
beautiful.  In  the  light  of  this  principle,  it  makes 
much  difference  what  kind  of  pictures  we  view  and 
admire,  what  music  we  hear,  what  scenery  we  look 
upon,  what  ideals  we  cherish,  what  companions  we 
associate  with,  what  operas  and  theaters  we  patron- 
ize, what  literature  we  read,  what  songs  we  love,  in 
short,  what  new  concepts  in  any  way  come  into  our 
minds  to  take  their  place  in  our  permanent  concept- 
mass.  In  this  our  character  stands  rooted,  from  this 
the  stream  of  consciousness  is  supplied  with  ideas,  iu 
this  consists  our  practical  soul-life. 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  Define  concepts. 

2.  Whence  arise  concepts? 

3.  What  is  said  of  the  relations  of  concepts? 

4.  Fact  about  the  modification  of  concepts? 

5.  What  is  meant  by  concept-mass? 

6.  In  what  does  soul-life  consist,  and  what  is  its  nature? 

7.  State  the  law  of  modification  of  concepts. 

8.  Why  are  the  older  concepts  stronger  than  the  newer? 

9.  Of  what  value  in  education  is  the  doctrine  of  concept-mass? 

10.  What  is  implied  in  the  process  of  gaming  knowledge? 

11.  What  pedagogical  application  of  our  principle  is  named? 


46  CONCEPT-MASS  AND  PSYCHIC  LIFE. 

12.  How  is  teaching  like  making  mosaic  pictures? 

13.  By  what  method  is  a  faulty  concept-mass  to  be  corrected, 
and  why? 

14.  Illustrate  by  reference  to  the  parable  of  the  tares. 

15.  By  what  othername  is  the  doctrine  of  Concept-mass  known? 

16.  What  other  great  facts  rest  on  the  doctrine  of  apperception? 

17.  Show  its  importance  in  moral  and  religious  training. 

18.  What  of  its  value  in  art  education? 

19.  Its  value  in  general  psychic  life? 


CHAPTER  Y. 
Means  of  Musical  Expression. 

T  T  TTE  have  said  that  music  is  first  a  conception  of 
V Y/  the  mind  and  afterwards  an  expression  in 
W  sound,  —  first  ideal,  and  afterwards  formal. 
Expression  means  literally  pressing  out,  that  is,  giv- 
ing objective  form  to  subjective  ideas.  In  technical 
sense,  expression  means  a  lively  or  vivid  representa- 
tion of  meaning,  sentiment,  or  feeling;  significant  and 
impressive  indication,  whether  by  language,  appear- 
ance, or  gesture;  that  manner  or  style  which  gives 
life  and  suggestive  force  to  ideas  and  sentiments.  In 
music,  according  to  Stainer  and  Barret,  it  means  the 
power  or  act  of  rendering  music  so  as  to  make  it  the 
vehicle  of  deep  and  pure  emotion;  the  spirit  of  music 
as  opposed  to  the  mere  mechanical  production  of 
sound.  In  rendering  works  of  a  higher  class,  a  true 
expression  involves  the  merging  of  the  artist's  per- 
sonality in  an  enthusiastic  effort  to  carry  out  to  the 
highest  extent  the  fullest  meaning  of  the  composer. 
In  whatever  sense  used,  expression  means  fundament- 
ally the  act  of  giving  outward  form  to  mental  con- 
ceptions. 

Music  as  a  language  employs  certain  symbols,  such 
as  lines,  spaces,  clefs,  notes,  rests,  bars,  accent  marks, 
etc.,  by  the  use  of  which  the  soul's  ideas  and  emotions 
are  translated  into  sensuous  forms.  Our  present  in- 
quiry is,  What  are  the  means  by  which  this  expres- 
sion of  the  soul's  conceptions  is  effected  and  by  which 


4g  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

the  soul  gains  experience  of  the  sounds  and  symbols 
employed  in  music?  To  serve  as  a  medium  of  com- 
munication between  the  inner  and  the  outer  worlds 
the  Creator  has  given  us  a  nervous  system,  suited  to 
the  offices  it  is  intended  to  perform. 

The  Nervous  System.  The  nervous  system  is  the  mys- 
tic borderland  between  the  realms  of  the  spiritual 
soul  and  the  physical  universe.  What  strange  mes- 
sages pass  back  and  forth  over  this  dim  borderland 
region!  Jacob,  in  his  beautiful  vision,  saw  angels 
ascending  and  descending  and  from  the  top  of  the 
ladder  he  heard  communications  from  the  Lord. 
What  the  ladder  was  in  the  patriarch's  dream,  the 
nervous  system  is  in  our  psychic  life,  namely,  the 
medium  of  communication  between  the  spiritual  and 
the  material.  Through  the  nervous  system  the  vari- 
ous phenomena  of  the  outer  world  find  an  inlet  to 
the  soul,  and  the  ideas,  emotions  and  volitions  of  the 
soul  have  an  outlet  into  the  physical  world. 

The  nervous  system  is  a  wonderful  mechanism, 
whether  viewed  in  regard  to  the  construction  and 
adaptation  of  its  several  parts,  the  delicacy  of  its  re- 
actions, or  the  perfection  and  variety  of  its  offices. 

The  Cerebro -Spinal  Axis.  The  nervous  system  con- 
sists of  two  main  parts,  the  cerehro-spinal  axis  and 
the  sympathetic  or  ganglionic  system.  The  cerebro- 
spinal  axis  is  divided  into  the  brain,  the  spinal  cord, 
and  the  nerves.  Foremost  in  importance  is  the  brain, 
a  large  mass  of  nervous  matter  which  fills  the  cavity 
of  the  skull,  with  an  average  weight  of  about  49 
ounces,  the  maximum  being  64  and  the  minimum  20, 
ounces.  It  is  divided  vertically  into  two  lobes  or 
hemispheres  by  means  of  a  medial  septum  of  white 
fibrous  matter,  which  in  the  center  and  lower  parts 


THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM.  49 

serves  to  bind  the  two  hemispheres  firmly  together. 
The  surface  of  the  hemispheres  is  composed  of  gray 
cellular  matter,  arranged  in  irregular  groups,  giving 
rise  to  the  so-called  convolutions  of  the  brain,  which 
vary  greatly  in  depth  and  complexity  in  different 
states  of  life. 

Four  divisions  of  the  brain  are  distinguished:  the 
cerebrum,  by  far  the  largest  part,  occupying  the  upper 
and  front  portion,  being  also  the  highest  in  function ; 
beneath  and  behind  this,  is  the  cerebellum,  or  little 
brain;  while  below  and  overshadowed  by  the  upper 
lobes  are  seen  in  order  the  pons  varolii  and  the 
medulla  oblongata. 

The  downward  continuation  of  the  medulla  oblong- 
ata  from  its  point  of  emergence  through  the  foramen 
magnum  in  the  lower  part  of  the  occipital  bone,  is 
called  the  spinal  cord  which  is  contained  within  a 
kind  of  tube  in  the  spinal  column  and  extends  the 
whole  length  of  the  column.  From  the  spinal  cord 
radiate  numerous  smaller  trunks  of  nerve  fibres  called 
simply  nerves. 

The  nerves  are  given  off  from  the  spinal  cord  in 
pairs,  one  on  each  side,  numbering  in  all  31  pairs, 
grouped  into,  counting  from  above,  ''cervical"  (8), 
"thoracic"  (12),  "lumbar"  (5),  "sacral"  (5),  "cqccy- 
geal"  (1).  Each  nerve  arises  from  the  side  of  the 
cord  by  two  roots,  anterior  and  posterior,  the  anteri- 
or being  composed  of  motor  nerve-fibres,  and  the 
posterior  of  sensory  nerve-fibres.  The  spinal  nerves 
are  not  single  fibres,  but  bundles  of  very  many  smaller 
fibres  bound  together  by  connective  tissue  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  membranous  sheath  called  neurolemma. 
The  nerve-fibres  are  exceedingly  small  and  delicate, 
the  medullated  varying  from  3-^  to  ^-fa  inch  in  di- 

Ptychology.  4 


50  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

ameter,  and  the  non-medullated  variety  from  ^OTT  to 
sfar  inch  in  diameter,  the  finest  fibres  in  the  nerves  of 
special  sense,  in  some  instances  being  only  yrgWo  inch 
in  diameter. 

The  nerves  are  classified  into  motor  and  sensory, 
the  former  carrying  the  commands  of  the  will  or  the 
inner  impulses  of  the  soul  outward  to  the  muscles, 
giving  rise  to  the  various  movements  of  the  body  and 
bodily  organs,  the  latter  conveying  the  stimulations 
of  the  nervous  end-organs  inward  to  the  inferior 
centres  and  finally  to  the  brain,  giving  rise  to  sensa- 
tions. The  peripheral  ends  of  the  nerves  are  distrib- 
uted all  over  the  surface  of  the  body,  but  not  every- 
where in  equal  numbers,  being  most  numerous  in 
those  parts  of  the  skin  which  are  most  sensitive,  such 
as  the  forehead,  cheeks,  nose,  lips,  finger-tips,  etc.  It 
is  farther  observed  that  the  surface  distribution  oc- 
curs in  groups  or  spots,  e.  g.,  temperature-spots, 
pressure-spots,  pain-spots  etc. 

The  Sympathetic  System  is  composed  of  several  dis- 
tinctly marked  groups  of  nervous  ganglia  connected 
by  nerve-fibres,  resembling  somewhat  a  string  of 
beads.  The  following  groups  may  be  particularized: 
first,  a  double  string  of  ganglia,  one  on  each  side  of 
the  spinal  column;  secondly,  three  groups  in  the  cavity 
of  the  thorax  and  abdomen,  viz.,  one  at  the  base  of 
the  heart,  another  in  the  upper  part  of  the  abdominal 
cavity,  and  a  third  in  front  of  the  last  lumbar  verte- 
bra; thirdly,  some  smaller  groups  widely  distributed 
over  the  body,  especially  in  connection  with  the  veins 
and  arteries. 

From  this  arrangement  it  would  appear  that  the 
sympathetic  system  serves  to  connect  the  various 
organs  of  the  body  with  each  other  and  all  of  them 


NERVOUS  END— ORGANS.  51 

with  the  cerebro-spinal  system,  thus  bringing  every 
part  of  the  entire  complex  organism  into  complete 
harmony — it  serves  as  a  bond  between  the  sensations, 
emotions,  and  ideas  of  the  brain  and  those  organs  in 
the  chest  and  abdomen  whose  condition  is  so  closely 
related  to  the  various  psychic  states,  e.  g.,  the  organs 
of  circulation  and  respiration.  The  student's  special 
attention  is  called  to  this  mechanism,  since  it  affords 
a  convenient  physiological  basis  for  the  explanation 
of  many  a  psychic  phenomenon  and  of  many  other 
things  of  great  value  to  the  musician. 

Nervous  End -Organs.  Examining  the  peripheral  ends 
of  the  nerves  more  closely,  we  find  that  the  nerves  do 
not  terminate  abruptly,  but  end  in  a  peculiar  kind  of 
mechanism,  varying  in  different  parts  of  the  body,  in 
size,  structure  and  delicacy  according  to  the  offices 
they  have  to  perform.  These  structures  are  known 
as  end-organs.  Among  these,  especially  prominent 
and  important  are  the  end-organs  of  the  five  special 
senses,  viz.,  sight,  hearing,  smell,  taste,  and  touch. 
The  end-organ  of  the  optic  nerve  is  the  eye. 

The  Eye.  The  human  eye  is  a  wonderfully  complex 
organ  and  made  with  the  most  admirable  skill,  illus- 
trating the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness  of  the 
Creator.  It  is  globular  in  shape  and  fits  snugly  into 
a  cavity  in  the  anterior  portion  of  the  skull,  where  it 
is  protected  from  injury  by  several  accessory  parts. 
Its  outer  walls  are  composed  of  three  concentric 
layers,  called  respectively  the  sclerotica,  choroid  coat, 
and  retina.  The  sclerotic  coat  is  on  the  outside,  a  firm 
opaque  substance,  white  in  color,  the  "white  of  the 
eye"  being  the  anterior  part  of  it.  In  front  a  trans- 
parent, horny,  highly  convex  part,  called  the  cornea, 
is  inserted  into  the  sclerotica,  just  as  a  watch-crystal 


52  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

is  set  into  its  rim.  Next  to  the  sclerotic  coat  is  a  pig- 
ment layer,  called  the  choroid  coat.  Inside  of  this  is 
spread  out  the  retina,  which  is  but  an  expansion  of 
the  optic  nerve  after  its  entrance  into  the  eye-ball 
through  an  opening  in  the  rear  portion  of  thesclerot- 
ica.  The  space  inclosed  by  the  walls  of  the  eye-ball 
is  occupied  by  the  aqueous  and  vitreous  humors,  the 
crystalline  lens,  and  the  iris.  The  iris  is  a  kind  of  vari- 
colored curtain  dropped  down  in  front  of  the  lens, 
having  a  circular  aperture  in  the  centre,  called  the 
pupil  The  lens,  together  with  the  humors,  the  ciliary 
processes,  the  suspensory  ligaments,  and  certain  very 
delicate  muscles  constitute  the  focusing  and  refract- 
ing apparatus.  Instead  of  shifting  the  position  of 
the  lens  as  in  focusing  a  camera  obscura,  the  accom- 
modation of  the  eye  to  varying  distances  is  accom- 
plished by  changing  the  convexity  of  the  lens  by 
means  of  certain  muscles. 

The  retina  is  the  most  important  part  of  the  eye, 
for  it  is  in  this  that  the  seeing  process  takes  place. 
Its  microscopic  structure  reveals  ten  different  layers. 
The  fibres  of  the  optic  nerve  having  pierced  the  scler- 
otic shell,  spread  out  radially  in  a  thin  film  over  the 
inside  surface  of  the  choroid  coat,  ending  in  the  layer 
of  rods  and  cones,  which,  it  is  believed,  are  the  specific 
organs  for  taking  up  the  influence  of  the  light  waves. 
For  further  details  the  student  is  referred  to  some 
good  text-book  on  physiology,  e.  g.,  Martin's  "Human 
Body." 

Eye -Culture.  Though  the  mechanism  of  the  eye  is 
perfect  in  itself,  the  art  of  seeing  must  be  learned— the 
child  by  trial  and  by  slow  degrees  must  acquire  the 
right  use  of  its  eyes.  Also,  the  adult  eye  may  be  in- 
definitely cultivated  in  delicacy  and  accuracy  of  vision, 


EYE — CULTURE.  53 

as  well  as  in  other  respects.  The  importance  of  eye- 
culture  can  not  be  overestimated.  When  we  remem- 
ber that  by  means  of  the  eye  we  gain  by  far  the 
greatest  quantity  and  also  the  best  quality  of  our 
knowledge  of  the  outside  world,  that  through  the 
"windows  of  the  soul,"  as  the  eyes  have  been  called,  a 
person's  true  character  shines  forth,  that  the  eye  is  a 
powerful  instrument  of  the  will  and  an  essential  me- 
dium of  expression,  we  can  judge  how  important  it  is 
to  every  person  in  general  and  to  every  artist  in  par- 
ticular to  cultivate  the  art  of  seeing  aright. 

Our  eyes  were  given  us  to  be  used  in  seeing  things 
and  seeing  them  correctly.  It  is  a  reproach  if  "we 
have  eyes  to  see,  and  see  not,"  or  "seeing,  but  do  not 
perceive. ' '  We  should  learn  to  see  the  things  that  are 
useful  and  good  and  beautiful  in  the  great  world 
about  us,  for  in  them  the  thoughts  of  the  Divine  are 
incarnated.  Some  one  has  said,  "that  all  things  are 
made  of  thought."  The  poem  is  thought  expressed 
in  words;  the  grand  cathedral  is  stored-up  thought 
expressed  in  stone;  the  famous  picture  is  thought  ex- 
pressed in  shades  and  colors;  the  great  statue  is 
thought  expressed  in  marble  or  bronze;  the  charming 
musical  production  is  stored-up  thought  expressed  in 
notes  and  sounds;  the  works  of  nature  are  the  stored- 
up  thoughts  of  the  Creator  expressed  in  mountain 
and  valley,  in  the  dewdrop  and  the  glowing  sunset,  in 
the  rose  bud  and  the  lilycup,  in  the  babbling  brook 
and  the  tumultuous  waves  of  the  sea,  in  the  quiet 
sunshine  of  day  and  the  brilliant  stars  of  the  mid- 
night sky,  in  the  mineral  crystal  and  the  sculptured 
snow-flake,  in  the  forest  and  in  the  ponderous  globes 
of  space — all  beautiful  and  interesting  things  made 
up  of  divine  thoughts,  everywhere  appealing  to  our 


54  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

admiration  and  inviting  our  study,  in  observing 
which  we  think  after  Him  the  thoughts  of  their  glori- 
ous Creator 

T/i8  Ear.  The  organ  of  hearing  is  composed  of  the 
outer  ear,  the  middle  ear,  and  the  internal  ear.  The 
outer  ear  is  made  up,  first,  of  the  conch,  a  kind  of 
funnel-shaped,  movable,  cartilaginous  body  located 
on  the  side  of  the  head,  whose  office  seems  to  be  to 
collect  the  sound-waves  and  start  them  inward  to- 
wards the  brain;  secondly,  .the  external  meat  us,  a  tube- 
like  prolongation  of  the  conch  a  contrivance  similar 
to  the  ear-trumpet;  and  thirdly,  the  drum-bead,  a 
conical  membrane,  stretched  across  the  auditory 
canal,  called  the  membrana  tympani,  or  head  of  the 
drum. 

The  middle  ear  extends  from  the  tympanic  mem- 
brane to  the  vestibule  of  the  internal  ear.  The  cavity 
of  the  drum  or  tympanum,  as  it  is  sometimes  called, 
contains  a  chain  of  three  small  bones  called  respec- 
tively, on  account  of  their  shape,  the  hammer,  the 
anvil,  and  the  stirrup.  The  office  of  these  small  bones 
seems  to  be  to  transmit  sound  vibrations  and  per- 
haps act  as  dampers,  similar  to  the  dampers  of  the 
piano-forte.  From  the  lower  side  of  the  tympanic 
cavity  proceeds  a  small  tube,  called  the  Eustachian 
tube,  which  opens  into  the  pharynx,  i.  e.,  the  upper 
and  rear  part  of  the  mouth.  This  serves  the  purpose  of 
regulating  the  varying  atmospheric  pressure  upon  the 
tympanic  membrane.  The  general  office  of  the  middle 
ear  is  to  transmit  the  sound  waves  on  their  way  to 
the  brain  and  to  modify  these  vibrations  so  as  to 
prepare  them  to  act  as  stimuli  on  the  sensitive  nerve 
filaments  in  the  internal  ear. 
The  internal  ear  or  labyrinth  occupies  a  cavity  in 


THE  HUMAN  EAR.  55 

the  petrous  portion  of  the  temporal  bone,  said  to  be 
the  only  completely  ossified  part  of  the  skeleton  at 
the  time  of  birth.  It  consists  of  three  divisions,  the 
vestibule,  the  semicircular  canals,  and  the  cochlea. 
The  vestibule  is  a  kind  of  antechamber  through  which 
access  is  gained  to  the  other  two  compartments.  The 
semicircular  canals,  three  in  number,  are  situated 
back  of  the  vestibule.  They  are  about  one  inch  long 
and  ^V  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  contain  a  fluid 
which  performs  an  important  office  in  the  transmis- 
sion of  the  sound  waves.  The  function  of  the  canals 
is  not  fully  understood.  Some  have  thought  that 
they  are  the  organs  for  perceiving  noises.  This  theory 
rests  on  a  fallacious  view  of  the  nature  and  cause  of 
noises,  and  so  must  be  rejected.  Evidently  we  hear 
noises  and  tones  with  the  same  organ  and  so  we  do 
not  need  a  special  organ  for  perceiving  noises.  Gen- 
erically  noises  and  tones  are  not  different,  the  one 
by  degrees  shading  into  the  other.  Another  theory 
is  that  the  canals  together  with  the  vestibule  are  an 
apparatus  for  maintaining  the  equilibrium  of  the 
body  and  for  estimating  position  in  space. 

The  cochlea,  so  called  from  its  shape  resembling 
that  of  the  snail  shell,  contains  the  true  organ  of 
hearing,  the  other  parts  being  only  accessory.  It 
winds  2%  times  around  a  central  axis  (modiolus),like 
a  spiral  staircase.  The  basilar  membrane,  which  in  a 
way  corresponds  to  the  carpet  spread  out  on  a  spiral 
staircase,  consists  of  a  wonderful  arrangement  of 
cells,  called  the  organ  of  Corti.  The  rods  and  fibres 
of  Corti,  6,000  or  8,000  in  number,  are  arranged  in 
rows  on  the  basilar  membrane,  like  the  keys  of  a 
piano-forte.  These  rods  increase  in  length  from  the 
base  to  the  apex  of  the  cochlea.  The  fibres  are  per- 


56  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

haps  the  supporting  bases  of  the  hair-cells,  20,000  or 
more  in  number.  "The  hair-cells,"  says  Prof.  James, 
"would  thus  seem  to  be  the  terminal  organs  for  pick- 
ing up  the  vibrations  which  the  air-waves  communi- 
cate through  all  the  intervening  apparatus,  solid  and 
liquid,  to  the  basilar  membrane." 

Here  we  see  an  apparatus  fashioned  on  the  plan  of 
the  harp,— a  harp,  not  of  a  thousand,  but  of  ten 
thousand,  strings.  This  is  the  wonderful  instrument 
by  means  of  which  we  are  able  to  hear  and  to  discrim- 
inate the  great  variety  of  sounds  that  come  in  from 
the  outer  world.  How  it  works  is  not  so  well  under- 
stood. Our  knowledge  of  the  subject  in  the  present 
stage  of  scientific  investigation,  indeed,  is  very  un- 
satisfactory. Says  Hensen:  "It  is  possible  that  the 
working  of  this  apparatus  may  be  altogether  different 
from  any  of  our  present  conjectures."  Understand- 
ing the  mechanism  of  the  ear  and  calling  to  our  aid 
the  principle  of  sympathetic  vibration  and  the  laws 
of  harmonics  so  ably  unfolded  by  Helmholtz,  we  can 
explain  with  tolerable  satisfaction  the  process  of  per- 
ceiving and  analyzing  the  various  sounds  that  reach 
the  nerve-filaments  in  the  inner  ear. 

Range  of  the  Human  Ear.  It  is  estimated  that  we  can 
hear  about  11,000  different  tones.  The  range  of  the 
average  human  ear  is  about  nine  octaves  of  pitch, 
that  is,  from  about  A2  of  the  sub-contra  octave  (27% 
vibrations,  German  scale)  to  above  c7  of  the  seven- 
times-marked  octave  (16,896  vibrations).  Preyer 
makes  the  lower  limit  of  audibility  16  vibrations  per 
second;  Helmholtz,  34  vibrations  for  the  lowest  mu- 
sical tone.  Tuning  forks  making  28  vibrations  per 
second  may  be  heard  as  a  low  droning  sound.  For 
most  ears,  28  to  32  vibrations  make  a  buzzing, 


RANGE  OF  HUMAN  EAR.  57 

groaning  sound.  The  upper  limit  of  audibility  varies 
greatly,  being  from  20,000  to  22,000  vibrations  per 
second  for  the  majority  of  ears.  Some  ears  can  per- 
ceive sounds  made  by  30,000  to  40,000,  and  very 
sensitive  ears,  as  many  as  50,000  vibrations  per 
second. 

Ears  differ  greatly  also  in  the  ability  to  distinguish 
very  slight  variations  in  pitch.  Trained  ears  can  dis- 
tinguish, differences  of  %  or  %  of  a  single  vibration, 
namely,  in  the  range  most  easily  covered  by  the  hu- 
man voice  (c1  to  c3).  Where  the  piano  gives  only  24 
notes,  the  ear  can  distinguish  3,000.  In  the  upper 
limits  of  the  scale  (e.  g.,  above  c6)  well  trained  ears 
can  distinguish  notes  differing  by  100  or  even  by 
1,000  vibrations  per  second. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  capacity  of  the  ear  is 
vastly  greater  than  that  of  the  human  voice.  The 
pitch  of  the  voice  in  singing  is  usually  between  87 
and  778  vibrations  per  second  (i.  e.,  from  the  deep  F 
of  the  bass  singer  to  the  upper  G  of  the  treble  singer). 
Christine  Nilsson's  voice  is  said  to  have  reached 
1,365  vibrations,  which  corresponds  to  f3,  on  the 
basis  of  256  double  vibrations  for  middle  C. 

Beyond  about  36,000,  or  possibly  50,000  vibra- 
tions per  second  the  ear  cannot  tell  us  anything  of 
what  happens  in  the  vibrating  body;  nor  can  any 
other  sense  give  us  the  desired  information.  There  is 
simply  a  blank  in  our  sense-experience  until  we  come 
to  about  18,000,000  vibrations  of  ether  per  second, 
when  we  get  a  sensation  of  heat,  a  temperature  far 
below  dull  red.  From  the  limit  of  lowest  perceptible 
heat  up  to  red  heat,  i.  e.,  luminosity,  there  is  an 
enormous  leap  of  471,982,000,000  vibrations.  As 
we  pass  upward  from  the  red  end  of  the  spectrum  the 


S8  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

vibrations  rapidly  increase  until  we  come  to  the  ex- 
treme limit  of  the  violet  which  is  represented  by 
733,000,000,000  vibrations  per  second.  Beyond  this 
limit  the  vibrations  are  so  rapid  that  neither  the  ear 
nor  any  other  sense  can  take  them  up,  and  again 
there  is  a  blank. 

The  Art  of  Hearing.  As  in  the  case  of  the  eye,  so  with 
the  ear— the  proper  use  of  it  must  be  learned.  The 
new-born  child  must  learn  the  art  of  hearing.  This 
art  has  both  its  physiological  and  its  psychological 
side.  On  the  one  hand,  must  be  learned  the  accom- 
modation of  the  physiological  organism  to  the  phys- 
ical wave-impulses  that  stream  into  the  inner  ear;  on 
the  other  hand,  must  be  learned  the  translation  and 
interpretation  of  the  external  impulses  into  sensa- 
tions, conceptions,  ideas,  emotions,  and  volitions  of 
conscious  experience.  The  child  has  everything  to 
learn  that  pertains  to  the  vast  world  of  sounds.  The 
adult  ear  also  has  much  to  learn,  for  it  is  true  of  all 
of  us  that  "having  ears,  we  hear  not."  There  are 
innumerable  sounds  all  about  us  which  our  dull  ears 
fail  to  perceive.  There  is  enrapturing  music  in  the  air, 
there  is  the  "music  of  the  spheres"  which  sing  as  they 
move  majestically  in  the  depths  of  space,  yet  our 
gross  ears  hear  it  not. 

"There's  music  in  the  sighing  of  the  reed; 
There's  music  in  the  gushing  of  a  rill; 
There's  music  in  all  things,  if  men  had  ears: 
The  earth  is  but  an  echo  of  the  spheres." 

—BYRON,  Don  Juan. 
"Music  is  in  all  growing  things; 
And  underneath  the  silky  wings 
Of  smallest  insect  there  is  stirred 
A  pulse  of  air  that  must  be  heard; 
Earth's  silence  lives,  and  throbs,  and  sings." 

— LATHROP,  "Music  of  Growth". 


LEARNING  TO  LISTEN.  59 

"The  rustle  of  the  leaves  in  summer's  hush 
When  wandering  breezes  touch  them,  and  the  sigh 
That  filters  through  the  forest,  or  the  gush 
That  swells  and  sinks  amid  the  branches  high, — 
"Tis  all  the  music  of  the  wind,  etc." 

— M.  G.  BBAINARD. 

Truly,  there  is  music  everywhere,  but,  oh,  these 
dull  and  heavy  ears!  Our  ears  were  given  us  to  hear, 
and  therefore  we  should  cultivate  them  to  do  what 
they  were  designed  to  do. 

We  Must  Learn  to  Listen.  No  other  class  of  people 
have  so  much  need  of  cultivating  their  ears  as  music 
students  and  the  best  way  to  do  this  is  to  attend  to 
sounds  of  all  kinds  and  diligently  learn  to  listen.  The 
true  way  of  beginning  a  musical  education  is,  not  by 
drumming  on  the  piano  or  mechanically  repeating  the 
notes  of  the  scale,  but  by  learning  to  listen  aright. 
Robert  Schumann  begins  his  list  of  sixty-eight  rules 
for  young  musicians  by  saying  that  we  should  take 
particular  notice  of  the  tones  about  us.  He  con- 
tinues: "The  cultivation  of  the  ear  is  of  the  greatest 
importance.  Endeavor  early  to  distinguish  each  tone 
and  key.  Find  out  the  exact  tone  sounded  by  the 
bell,  the  glass,  and  the  cuckoo."  That  is  a  very  good 
rule;  if  we  follow  it  day  after  day,  we  shall  see  how 
many  are  the  tones  about  us  which  we  scarcely  ever 
notice.  It  is  important  to  listen  attentively  to  the 
scale-tones,  in  order  to  become  familiar  with  each 
separate  tone.  In  this  way  we  are  able  to  form  a 
clear  conception  not  only  of  the  various  tones  them- 
selves but  also  of  their  relation  one  to  another.  We 
must  think  the  separate  tones  clearly  and  sharply  so 
as  to  realize  just  how  each  one  sounds  in  the  scale, 
and  what  it  signifies.  All  this  is  a  severe  mental 
exercise,  but  it  yields  the  best  of  results.  Ear-training 


60  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

is  thus  a  process  of  mind-training,  and  such  on 
psychological  principles  it  ought  to  be. 

Schumann  says,  "We  should  learn  to  refine  the  in- 
ner ear;"  but  refining  the  inner  ear  means  training 
the  mind  to  interpret  aright  the  sound  impulses  that 
come  to  the  brain  through  the  outer  ear.  It  means 
further  to  cultivate  the  mind's  power  to  form  clear 
and  accurate  conceptions  of  the  tones  which  the 
outer  ear  reports,  to  judge  correctly  concerning  them, 
and  to  develop  the  power  of  thought.  Thus  eartrain- 
ing  is  of  the  very  first  importance  in  a  musical  edu- 
cation. The  music  student  needs  to  learn  first  and 
last  to  think  music;  without  this,  he  can  never  be  a 
musician.  This  is  a  great  principle  which  psychology 
seeks  to  inculcate.  Simply  to  confine  the  pupil  to 
notes  and  neglecting  to  do  anything  that  will  incite 
him  to  listen  clearly  and  sharply  and  to  form  for  him- 
self a  mental  image  of  that  which  he  hears  is  to  pro- 
ceed contrary  to  the  principles  of  mind  and  so  to  do 
the  pupil  great  harm. 

The  prevailing  methods  of  studying  and  teaching 
music  are  radically  wrong.  Instead  of  training  the 
inner  ear  and  refining  it  we  make  it  more  dull;  instead 
of  cultivating  the  habit  of  listening,  we  do  just  the 
opposite.  Instead  of  forming  correct  habits  which 
will  aid  the  pupil  in  his  progress  and  make  his  work 
easy  and  pleasant,  he  forms  bad  habits  which  will  be 
a  hindrance  to  him  at  every  step  on  the  way  and 
make  his  muscles  and  nerves  his  enemies,  instead  of 
obedient  helpers. 

Mr.  Tapper  has  very  truthfully  said:  "One  of  the 
quickest  ways  to  become  unable  to  hear  sounds  cor- 
rectly is  to  play  the  piano  without  thinking  fully  of 
what  we  are  doing.  Therefore  it  must  be  a  rule  never 


A  WORLD  OF  MUSIC.  6l 

to  play  a  tone  without  listening  accurately  to  it .... 
No  rule  can  exceed  in  importance  this  one,  never  to 
make  any  music  unthinkingly."  We  should  "listen 
as  if  listening  were  our  life."  And  indeed  it  is  a  large 
and  very  important  part  of  our  cultivated  life,  our 
higher  music  life. 

And  what  a  wonderful  tone-world  this  is  in  which 
we  live!  What  a  world  of  music  is  round  about  us! 
What  variety,  what  wealth  of  tones!  The  rustling  of 
the  leaves,  the  sighing  of  the  breezes  in  the  pine  nee- 
dles, the  chirping  of  insects,  the  twittering  of  birds,  the 
bleating  of  lambs,  the  lowing  of  cattle,  the  neighing 
of  horses,  the  crowing  and  cackling  of  barnyard  fowls, 
the  croaking  of  frogs,  the  hooting  of  the  owl,  the 
barking  of  the  watch-dog,  the  drumming  of  the 
pheasant,  the  cooing  of  doves,  the  lonely  piping  of  the 
cuckoo,  the  murmuring  of  the  shady  brooklet  in  its 
forest  solitude,  the  dashing  cataract,  the  roaring  of 
the  sea,  the  whining  and  whistling  of  the  winds  in  the 
cordage  and  rigging  of  the  vessel,  the  roll  and  crash 
of  thunder,  the  wild  fury  of  the  tempest,  the  rumbling 
of  wheels  in  the  street,  the  tramp,  tramp  of  horses' 
feet,  the  quaint  cries  of  the  fruit  and  vegetable  ven- 
ders, the  clang  of  bells,  the  shrill  scream  of  the  steam 
whistle,  the  sound  of  saw  and  hammer,  the  puffing  of 
engines,  the  hum  of  machinery,  the  report  of  guns, 
the  buzzing  of  bees, — and  when  the  myriad  sounds  of 
busy  life  and  of  industry  have  died  away  and  you 
stand  alone  under  the  canopy  of  heaven  in  the  silence 
of  midnight,  then  listen,  and  you  shall  hear  a  won- 
derful wealth  of  sounds  issuing  forth  out  of  the  regions 
of  silence — listen,  and  you  shall  hear  things  which  the 
eye  has  not  seen  nor  the  outward  ear  heard,  voices  of 
the  unheard  and  unseen,  whispers  of  eternity,  throb- 


62  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

bings  of  the  great  world-soul— listen  to  all  this  infinite 
variety  of  tones,  and  you  have  the  materials  for  your 
arias,  your  sonatas,  your  symphonies,  your  oratorios. 

W hat  is  it  to  Listen?  To  listen  is  to  give  undivided 
attention  to  what  is  heard,  to  bend,  and  hold  the 
thought  upon  the  sounds  that  come  in  through  the 
outer  ear,  to  concentrate  our  mental  energy  upon  our 
sound  sensations.  Listening  is  thus  a  mode  of 
thought  concentration.  If  we  would  learn  to  listen 
correctly  we  must  form  the  habit  of  thinking  intently, 
of  fixing  the  mind  upon  the  sounds  that  come  into 
the  ear.  The  music  student  cannot  make  substantial 
progress  hi  his  work  without  earnest  and  persistent 
study.  Mere  finger  exercises  cannot  be  a  substitute 
for  study.  Practice,  indeed,  makes  perfect,  but  it 
must  be  intelligent  practice,  and  in  nothing  more  so 
than  in  music.  What  relation  is  there  between  the 
musical  concepts  in  the  mind  and  the  tones  produced 
by  the  piano?  ''The  piano  is  a  photographic  camera, 
making  for  us  a  picture  of  what  we  have  written,— a 
camera  so  subtle  indeed,  that  it  pictures  not  things 
we  can  see  and  touch,  but  invisible  things  which  exist 
only  within  us"  (Tapper). 

But  we  must  not  presume  to  make  the  piano  think 
for  us,  as  some  unfortunately  too  often  do.  Instead 
of  looking  carefully  through  the  pages  of  their  new 
music,  reading  and  understanding  it  with  the  mind, 
they  run  to  the  piano  and  with  such  playing-skill  as 
they  have  they  use  their  hands  instead  of  their  mind. 
This  is  wrong,  and  does  much  harm  to  the  student. 
Before  the  hands  and  fingers  can  do  their  best  work 
there  must  be  intelligence  behind  them  to  guide  and 
make  effective  every  movement.  The  more  knowledge 
we  have,  the  greater  the  skill  and  power  of  our  hands. 


CLASSICAL  MUSIC.  63 

So,  then,  the  music  student  must  study  diligently, 
not  only  his  immediate  subject,  but  as  many  other 
subjects  of  general  knowledge  as  possible.  Thus  will 
his  mind  come  in  contact  with  great  thoughts,  and 
his  whole  being  will  be  filled  up  with  power.  Thus 
will  he  widen  and  deepen  his  culture,  he  will  become 
acquainted  with  the  best  and  greatest  things  in  the 
world,  and  the  tone  of  his  life  will  be  correspondingly 
elevated. 

When  we  study  great  music  we  come  in  contact 
with  great  thoughts,  just  as  when  we  read  a  great 
poem,  look  at  a  famous  picture,  behold  a  magnificent 
building,  etc.,  for  all  the  great  works  of  art  are  stored- 
up  thought.  As  the  placid  mountain  lake  reflects 
only  what  is  abo  ve  it,  so  the  works  of  the  great  mu- 
sicians reflect  only  those  great  and  lofty  thoughts 
which  stand  high  above  the  plain  of  common  things 
and  afford  perpetual  delight  and  inspiration  to  sym 
pathetic  souls.  Thus,  when  we  have  gained  some 
understanding  and  appreciation  of  music  by  diligent 
study,  we  not  only  think  about  what  we  play  and 
hear,  but  we  begin  to  inquire  what  thought  the  com- 
position contains  and  what  meanings,  what  lessons 
of  life  and  duty  it  conveys  to  us.  Thus  we  begin  to 
listen  with  the  inner  ear  to  the  beautiful  thought- 
forms  that  filled  the  composer's  mind.  From  the  me- 
chanical performance,  from  mere  technique,  we  have 
risen  into  the  higher  regions  of  expression  and  inter- 
pretation. All  this,  and  more  too,  is  what  comes 
from  learning  to  listen  and  from  cultivating  both  the 
inner  and  the  outer  ear. 

Of  the  other  senses  and  sense-organs,  namely,  taste, 
smell,  and  touch,  little  needs  here  be  said.  Touch 
excepted,  they  are  of  secondary  importance  to  the 
musician. 


64  MEANS  OF  MUSICAL  EXPRESSION. 

Looking  at  the  nervous  system  as  a  whole,  we  see 
here  a  mechanism  admirably  adapted  for  receiving 
and  transmitting  impulses  from  without  to  the  soul 
within,  and  for  giving  expression  to  the  conceptions, 
emotions,  and  volitions  of  the  soul  by  means  of  the 
various  muscular  movements.  The  health  and  train- 
ing of  the  nervous  system  are  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance to  the  musician,  and  should  therefore  receive 
his  constant  and  serious  attention.  No  one  has 
greater  need  than  the  musician  of  sound  and  well 
trained  nerves  that  are  ever  ready  to  do  the  bidding 
of  his  will,  to  respond  promptly  and  accurately  to 
every  solicitation  from  the  outer  world  as  well  as 
from  his  inner  world  of  thoughts  and  feelings— nerves 
that  are  truly  the  servants  of  his  will,  and  in  friendly 
alliance  with  himself, 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  Meaning  of  expression? 

2.  Subject  of  present  inquiry? 

3.  What  is  the  medium  of  expression? 

4.  Remarks  about  the  nervous  system  in  general? 

5.  Two  main  parts  of  the  nervous  system? 

6.  Give  account  of  the  several  divisions  of  the  brain. 

7.  Describe  the  spinal  cord. 

8.  What  are  nerves,  and  how  classified? 

9.  Facts  about  distribution  of  nerves? 

10.  Explain  the  sympathetic  system,  and  its  office. 

11.  What  are  end-organs? 

12.  Describe  the  structure  of  the  eye. 

13.  Why  is  eye-training  important? 

14.  What  are  the  means  of  eye-training? 

15.  Describe  the  mechanism  of  the  ear. 

16.  Theory  about  the  office  of  the  semicircular  canals?    Give 
objection. 


QUESTIONS.  65 

17.  Give  account  of  the  organ  of  Corti,  and  explain  its  office. 

18.  State  facts  about  the  range  of  the  human  ear. 

19.  Compare  capacity  of  the  ear  with  that  of  the  voice. 

20.  State  facts  about  vibrations  beyond  the  upper  limit  of 
audibility. 

21 .  Show  that  the  art  of  hearing  must  be  learned. 

22.  What  about  sounds  in  nature? 

23.  Give  Schumann's  rule  about  listening. 

24.  Why  listen  to  the  scale-tones? 

25.  Show  that  ear-training  is  a  process  of  mind-training. 

26.  Why  is  it  important  to  think  music? 

27.  What  is  said  of  wrong  methods  of  teaching  and  studying 
music? 

28.  Substance  of  Mr.  Tapper's  remark? 

29.  What  of  variety  in  the  tone-world? 

30.  What  is  it  to  listen? 

31.  Why  must  the  musician  be  an  earnest  student? 

32.  Why  is  general  knowledge  necessary  to  the  musician? 

33.  Why  should  we  study  only  great  music? 

34.  Why  should  the  musician  have  a  sound  and  well  trained 
nervous  system? 


66  HABIT. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
Habit. 

nabit  we  mean  a  fixed  disposition  to  do  a 
thing,  and  a  facility  in  doing  it,  the  result  of 
numerous  repetitions  of  the  action  —a  fixed  ten- 
dency to  think,  feel,  or  act  in  a  particular  way  under 
special  circumstances"  (Sully). 

"An  acquired  habit,  from  the  psychological  point 
of  view,  is  nothing  but  a  new  pathway  of  discharge 
formed  in  the  brain,  by  which  certain  incoming  cur- 
rents ever  tend  to  escape"  (James). 

1  'Habit  is  the  involuntary  tendency  or  aptitude  to 
perform  certain  actions  which  is  acquired  by  their 
frequent  repetition"  (Webster). 

These  definitions  in  a  general  way  serve  to  denote 
the  particular  field  of  mental  phenomena  now  under 
consideration.  It  is  much  better,  however,  for  the 
student  not  to  confine  himself  to  any  formal  defini- 
tion, but  from  practical  knowledge  of  the  facts  in  the 
case  to  frame  for  himself  a  working  definition. 

The  phenomena  of  habit  are  familiar  to  everyone, 
and  may  be  studied  every  moment  of  our  conscious 
life.  Whatever  theory  we  may  hold  as  to  the  connec- 
tion between  mind  and  body,  there  can  be  but  little 
doubt  that  habit  has  a  physiological  basis,  and  hence 
Prof.  James'  phraseology  "pathway  of  discharge"  is 
to  be  taken  in  a  literal  sense.  In  all  probability  it 
represents  correctly  the  facts  in  the  case.  But  what 
is  meant  by  "a  pathway  of  discharge?"  It  means 


WHAT  HABIT  IS.  6^ 

the  effect  on  the  sensitive  nerve  substance,  of  the  flow 
of  nervous  force,  set  in  motion  by  mind  in  the  cereb- 
ral hemispheres.  When  \ve  speak  of  nervous  force  we 
do  not  make  this  identical  with  mind,  but  it  is  rather 
simply  an  effect  of  mind, — mind-power  transformed 
into  other  modes  of  action.  As  chemical  action  in  the 
battery-cell  is  transformed  into  an  electric  current 
which  flows  out  through  the  wire-circuit  of  a  telegraph 
system,  so  we  may  represent  motor-currents  as  trans- 
formed soul-energy.  Then  we  can  literally  speak  of 
' 'path ways  of  discharge".  To  be  sure,  this  is  only  a 
theory,  but  if  it  guides  us  aright  in  the  study  of  facts, 
it  serves  an  important  purpose.  We  do  not  set  up 
the  theory  for  its  own  sake,  but  simply  as  a  means 
for  attaining  to  the  truth;  when  we  have  found  the 
truth  we  may  cast  away  the  theory. 

A  thorough  study  of  the  higher  nerve-centres  sug- 
gests the  probability  that  these  centres  contain  in 
their  groups  of  cells  certain  arrangements  for  repre- 
senting impressions  and  movements,  and  other  ar- 
rangements for  coupling  the  activity  of  these  ar- 
rangements together.  "Currents  pouring  in  from  the 
sense-organs  first  excite  some  arrangements,  which 
in  turn  excite  others,  until  at  last  a  discharge  down- 
wards of  some  sort  occurs"  (James).  Be  this  as  it- 
may,  whenever  any  activity  occurs  between  one  group 
and  another  group  of  nerve-cells,  between  one  centre 
and  another  centre,  or  between  the  various  centres 
and  their  correlated  muscular  arrangements  for  the 
production  of  motor  effects,  the  facts  show  that  each 
time  such  activity  is  repeated  the  tendency  for  such 
activity  to  recur  is  increased.  This  fact  is  aptly  re- 
presented by  the  word  "pathway".  The  oftener  we 
walk  over  a  given  path,  the  more  marked,  the  more 


68  HABIT. 

deeply  worn,  the  harder,  the  smoother,  the  less  resist- 
ing it  becomes,  and,  other  things  equal,  the  surer  we 
are  to  keep  on  walking  in  that  path. 

So,  habits  are  due  to  pathways  through  the  nerve- 
centres  and  nerve-fibres.  The  currents  of  influence 
from  outer  stimuli  pouring  in  through  the  sense- 
channels,  being  once  in,  must  find  a  way  out,  for 
where  there  is  action  of  any  kind  from  outer  stimuli, 
there  is  also  reaction  from  the  centres  towards  the 
outer  world.  These  "currents  in  getting  out  leave 
their  traces  in  the  paths  which  they  take.  The  only 
thing  they  can  do,  in  short,  is  to  deepen  old  paths  or 
to  make  new  ones;  and  the  whole  plasticity  of  the 
brain  sums  itself  up  in  two  words  when  we  call  it  an 
organ  in  which  currents  pouring  in  from  the  sense- 
organs  make  with  extreme  facility  paths  which  do 
not  easily  disappear"  (James).  There  is  implied  in 
all  this  the  property  of  plasticity  in  nervous  sub- 
stance on  account  of  which  certain  after-effects  re- 
main when  the  exciting  causes  have  ceased  to  act. 
Plasticity  in  a  body  means  such  a  structure  of  its 
substance  as  will  allow  yielding  to  an  influence  with- 
out destroying  its  integrity.  This  property  in  some 
degree  is  found  in  all  organic  matter,  but  nervous 
tissue  possesses  it  in  a  very  extraordinary  degree. 
To  this  property  the  phenomena  of  habit  are  due; 
this  is  the  physiological  basis  for  the  effects  of  repeti- 
tion of  an  action.  Habit  is  thus  not  a  capricious 
thing,  but  a  law  of  our  being,  a  law,  moreover,  which 
hi  an  important  sense  conditions  almost  every  other- 
law  of  physical  and  psychical  action  in  the  human 
economy. 

Repeated  action  creates  a  molecular  disposition  in  the 
nervous  substance.  This  is  a  principle  of  tremendous 


NERVOUS  DISPOSITION.  69 

consequence,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,  and  therefore  it 
demands  our  close  attention  here.  Prof.  Wundt  says: 
"Where  we  have  no  knowledge  of  the  true  condition 
of  the  molecular  changes,  in  which  practice  consists, 
as  is  the  case  with  the  complicated  structure  of  the 
nervous  system,  we  have  only  the  one  general  expres- 
sion, which,  however,  has  the  advantage  in  contrast 
with  the  view  of  remaining  material  impressions, 
that  it  claims  material  after-effects,  which  continue 
at  first,  but  with  no  practice  gradually  fall  away; 
and  do  not  consist  in  a  continuation  of  the  function 
itself,  but  hi  facilitating  its  repetition."  These  endur- 
ing changes  or  after-effects  of  nerve-stimulation  we 
call  nervous  disposition. 

These  after-effects  consist  in  certain  changes  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  material  molecules  by  virtue  of 
which  a  permanent  tendency  toward  a  given  mode  of 
action  is  produced  within  them.  When  a  nerve  has 
once  been  excited  by  the  application  of  a  stimulus 
there  is  produced  within  the  nerve  substance  a  ten- 
dency to  act  in  a  similar  way  upon  subsequent  stimu- 
lations. Every  time  the  stimulation  is  repeated  the 
tendency  for  a  given  nerve-action  to  recur,  is  in- 
creased. When  impressions  upon  the  brain  cells 
vanish  from  consciousness  they  do  not  pass  away  en- 
tirely, but  leave  behind  a  permanent  result,  a  certain 
disposition  in  the  nerve  substance  which  under  favor- 
able circumstances  facilitates  the  reappearance  of  the 
original  impressions. 

Experience  shows  that  a  single  sensation  does  not 
visibly  change  the  sensibility  of  the  nerves,  and  there- 
fore apparently  leaves  no  lasting  impression.  It  is 
only  when  the  sensation  has  been  often  repeated,  at 
certain  intervals,  that  a  marked  and  lasting  change 


70  HABIT. 

appears.  "Every  element  becomes  more  suited  to  a 
certain  function  the  oftener  it  is  led  by  external  con- 
ditions to  exercise  it.  The  frequent  repetition  of  the 
same  impression  greatly  facilitates  the  reception  of  a 
similar  one,  and  the  repetition  of  various  sensations 
in  a  certain  sphere  of  the  nervous  system  renders  pos- 
sible the  distinction  of  the  finest  differences  in  the 
force  and  quality  of  the  received  impressions. .  .  The 
frequent  performance  of  a  function  lessens  the  amount 
of  exertion  necessary  for  a  similar  or  more  difficult 
one.  . .  Many  phenomena  prove  that  when  a  sensa- 
tion is  frequently  carried  through  the  ganglia  cells  in 
a  certain  direction,  this  direction  will  in  future  cases 
when  impressions  touch  the  same  cells  be  preemi- 
nently disposed  to  act  as  conduct"  (Wundt). 

"It  seems  just  as  if  impressions  that  repeatedly 
transfer  themselves  from  one  point  to  another  put 
aside  obstructions  on  the  connecting  paths,  and  make 
the  way  freer,  smoother,  and  more  traversible.  ...  If 
we  often  combine  a  certain  feeling  or  conception  with 
a  motion,  the  latter  will  finally  take  place  involun- 
tarily as  soon  as  that  feeling  or  that  conception  is 
called  forth,  and  vice  versa.  Certain  notes  recall 
certain  words  to  our  mind,  or  the  words,  the  notes, 
and  we  sing  or  whistle  them  lowly  to  ourselves.  That 
bond  which  the  practice  of  our  central  organs  knits 
between  various  stations  of  feeling,  conception,  and 
motion,  we  call  habitude.  Stations  which  are  in  the 
habit  of  corresponding,  answer  each  other's  dispatch- 
es very  promptly,  while  those  of  others  are  not 
answered  at  all  or  only  with  hesitation  and  doubt" 
(Kussmaul). 

"Like  a  machine,  which,  if  continually  turned  in  the 
same  manner  and  moved  by  the  same  driving  spring, 


HOW  SKILL  IS  POSSIBLE.  71 

receives  a  decided  inclination  and  disposition  to  this 
mode  of  motion,  the  human  soul  receives  a  decided 
inclination  and  propensity  for  those  modes  of  ex- 
pression and  feeling  to  which  it  has  grown  accustomed 
by  repeated  similar  practices"  (Resewitz). 

"Habitude  is  not  only  a  state,  it  is  a  disposition,  a 
virtue.  Habitude  has  the  greater  force  when  the 
change  which  has  produced  it  continues  or  is  often 
repeated  .  .  .  Repetition  strengthens  habitude;  for 
an  act  even  when  it  has  not  been  performed  more 
than  a  single  time  leaves  a  disposition  which  is  the 
point  for  the  departure  of  habit"  (Ravisson). 

Let  these  statements  by  authorities  on  the  subject 
and  coming,  as  they  do,  fresh  from  the  psychological 
laboratory,  be  duly  weighed  and  their  bearing  consid- 
ered. The  very  important  fact  here  to  be  emphasized 
and  pressed  upon  the  music  student's  attention  is 
that  all  impressions  he  receives,  all  objects  he  beholds, 
all  sounds  he  hears,  all  pictures  he  views,  all  images 
of  beauty  he  cherishes  in  his  heart,  all  thoughts  that 
stream  through  his  mind,  all  acts  he  performs,  leave 
in  his  nervous  and  mental  being  permanent  results  as 
disposition  or  propensity  to  repeat  his  former  states 
and  acts  with  ever  increasing  facility. 

Attention  is  also  called  to  the  fact  that  the  prin- 
ciple here  brought  out  is  the  foundation  of  all  skill. 
Were  it  not  for  this  thing  of  nervous  disposition  as 
result  of  previous  acts  and  efforts  it  would  not  be 
possible  to  acquire  skill  of  hand  in  playing,  or  doing 
anything  else.  Finger-training,  ear-training,  voice- 
training,  and  every  other  kind  of  training  would  be  out 
of  the  question.  No  such  thing  as  practice  making 
perfect  would  be  possible,  for  we  should  do  the  simp- 
lest act  the  hundredth  time  no  better  than  the  first 


72  HABIT. 

time.  Then  could  we  never  learn  to  walk,  or  see,  or 
hear,  or  talk;  we  should  live  our  life  in  perpetual  in- 
experience and  helplessness  and  drop  into  hopeless 
imbecility.  But  the  all-wise  Creator  has  made  us  and 
the  world  in  which  we  live  on  the  principle  of  economy. 
As  the  disciples  in  the  miracle  of  the  loaves  and  fishes 
were  commanded  to  gather  together  the  fragments 
so  that  nothing  should  be  lost,  so  in  the  economy  of 
nature  it  has  been  decreed  that  nothing  should  go  to 
waste.  Everywhere  energy,  in  its  multitudinous  forms 
and  ceaseless  round  of  activity,  is  conserved,  not 
destroyed. 

In  the  physical  world,  as  in  the  mental,  after-effects 
remain  when  the  exciting  cause  has  vanished.  The 
beautiful  colors  of  the  fluorescent  tube  persist  long 
after  the  electric  current  has  been  broken.  Luminous 
undulations  may  be  garnered  up  in  a  sheet  of  paper, 
ready  to  be  revealed  at  the  call  of  special  reagents. 
A  plate  of  dry  collodion,  after  being  briefly  exposed 
to  the  sun's  rays,  retains  for  weeks  in  the  darkness 
the  effects  of  the  indescribably  delicate  changes  which 
have  been  wrought  in  it  by  the  actinic  power  of  the 
sunbeam.  So  "the  well  seasoned  Cremona,  which 
has  been  played  upon  by  skilled  hands,  will  reproduce 
the  tones  with  superior  sweetness  and  purity,  on 
account  of  the  secret  molecular  changes  of  which  it 
has  been  made  the  subject  of  previous  agitations  from 
the  bow  of  the  violinist"  (Ladd).  Hence  the  person- 
ality which  favorite  instruments  acquire  by  long 
usage;  hence  also  the  reluctance  with  which  the  owner 
of  a  fine  piano  allows  another  person  to  play  on  it. 
The  doctrine  of  stored-up  energy— physical,  nervous, 
mental — is  truly  wonderful,  and  acquires  new  mean- 
ing in  connection  with  this  study  of  habit. 


HABIT  IN  EDUCATION.  73 

Habii  in  Education.  We  have  spoken  of  the  physio- 
logical basis  of  habit  and  have  attained  a  broad 
foundation  upon  which  to  rise  into  some  of  its  special 
applications.  What  has  habit  to  do  with  education? 
Rousseau  has  said,  "Education  is  certainly  nothing 
but  a  formation  of  habits." 

"Habit  almost  invariably  goes  farther  than  pre- 
cept, and  the  teacher  must  ascribe  most  of  his  suc- 
cesses to  the  formation  of  habits.  For  the  power  of 
insight  generally  covers  a  single  case  only,  while  that 
of  habit  reaches  through  a  whole  life"  (J.  G.  Curt- 
man). 

Lord  Brougham  has  said:  "I  trust  everything, 
under  God,  to  habit,  on  which,  in  all  ages,  the  law- 
giver as  well  as  the  schoolmaster,  has  mainly  placed 
his  reliance;  habit,  which  makes  everything  easy,  and 
casts  the  difficulties  upon  the  deviation  from  a  wont- 
ed course."  "Education  deals  altogether  with  the 
formation  of  habits.  For  it  aims  to  make  some  con- 
dition or  form  of  activity  into  a  second  nature  for 
the  pupil.  But  this  involves  also  the  breaking  up  of 
previous  habits.  This  power  to  break  up  habits,  as 
well  as  to  form  them,  is  necessary  to  the  freedom  of 
the  individual."* 

It  is  a  wise  precept  of  the  Koran  that  the  great 
thing  in  all  education  is  to  see  to  it  that  the  habits 
of  the  child  are  of  the  right  kind.  It  is  a  familiar 
educational  maxim  that  as  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree 
is  inclined;  but  this  is  nothing  else  than  the  philosophy 
of  habit  expressed  in  the  simple  language  of  common 
life.  What  the  child's  character,  mental,  moral,  and 
social,  will  be  depends  on  the  habits  he  forms  during 
the  plastic  years  of  childhood  and  youth,  for  every 

*  Rosenkranz,  "Philosophy  of  Education,"  p.  35. 


74  HABIT. 

experience,  every  impulse,  every  emotion  leaves  a 
physical  record  and  tendency  in  the  brain  and  the 
nervous  system  as  a  whole.  Character  in  its  essential 
part  is  simply  habit  which  has  become  fixed. 

Habit  is  far  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  education- 
al forces;  therefore  its  importance  cannot  be  too 
strongly  urged  upon  the  educator.  If  the  pupil  is 
taught  to  act  properly  and  then  keeps  on  acting 
properly,  by  and  by  good  manners  become  fixed 
habits  with  him;  if  he  persists  in  doing  right,  after 
a  while  right  doing  grows  into  a  firm  habit;  if  he  con- 
tinues spelling  and  pronouncing  words  correctly, 
moving  his  hands  and  fingers  correctly,  and  playing 
correctly,  these  repeated  acts  will  grow  into  life- 
habits. 

It  is  a  saying  in  our  language  that  "habit  becomes 
second  nature,"  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  said, 
"Habit  is  ten  times  nature."  We  can  understand 
what  he  meant  by  this  when  we  recall  another  remark 
of  his  while  watching  the  boys  at  play  in  the  yards  of 
Eton  School,  namely,  "There  the  battle  of  Waterloo 
was  won."  There,  in  his  boyhood  days,  in  the  ex- 
ercises of  the  playground  as  well  as  those  of  the 
school-room,  was  laid  the  foundation  of  his  military 
training;  there  began  the  stream  of  habit,  which 
issued  in  the  cool,  deliberate,  thoughtful,  powerful 
military  leader,  the  hero  of  Waterloo.  The  habits 
formed  on  the  playground  became  to  him  a  power 
"ten  times  nature"  in  shaping  his  later  life  and 
achieving  his  world-wide  fame.  Oh,  that  every  pupil 
and  every  teacher  did  but  realize  the  tremendous 
consequences  of  habit  in  the  process  of  education!  By 
every  act  of  our  daily  life,  whether  grave  or  light, 
unconsciously  we  are  spinning  the  web  of  destiny,  we 


"HABIT  IS  TEN  TIMES  NATURE".  75 

are  making  our  own  fates,  good  or  bad,  we  are  form- 
ing those  habits  which  will  determine  our  character 
and  career. 

The  drunken  Rip  Van  Winkle,  in  Jefferson's  play, 
excuses  himself  for  every  fresh  neglect  of  duty  by  say- 
ing, "I  won't  count  this  time."  Ah!  but  it  does  count 
none  the  less;  every  single  act  whether  good  or  bad, 
right  or  wrong,  careless  or  thoughtful,  counts  with 
unerring  certainty,  and  never  a  single  item  is  allowed 
to  go  unheeded.  Down  among  the  braincells  and  in 
the  nervous  and  muscular  fibers  every  movement  is 
counted  and  registered,  every  mistake  is  recorded  in 
the  form  of  a  permanent  disposition  to  do  the  same 
thing  over  again.  Every  act  we  do  leaves  behind  it 
a  permanent  effect.  The  things  that  we  do  often  and 
do  habitually  soon  become  "second  nature."  This 
means  that  wrong  habits,  if  not  corrected,  inevitably 
organize  themselves  in  our  innermost  nature  into 
powerful  forces  of  opposition  which  in  some  critical 
moment  when  we  are  desirous  of  achieving  success 
will  assert  themselves  with  direful  obstinacy  and 
bring  about  humiliating  defeat. 

The  great  thing  in  education  is  to  make  our  ner- 
vous system  our  friendly  ally  instead  of  our  enemy. 
Happy  is  the  man  whose  habits  are  his  friends;  woe 
to  the  man  whose  habits  have  been  such  as  to  bring 
his  muscles  and  nerves  in  hostile  array  against  himself! 
This  is  of  special  value  to  the  music  student.  What 
is  your  musical  education?  A  chain  of  habits.  What 
is  your  life?  What  are  you?  A  bundle  of  habits. 
Education  means  control  of  one's  self— mind,  nerves, 
body.  It  means  that  the  natural  and  appointed  ser- 
vants of  the  mind  in  the  execution  of  its  desires, 
ideals,  and  volitions  shall  be  ready  and  obedient  as 


well  as  intelligent.  The  importance  of  these  facts 
and  principles  needs  to  be  thundered  into  the  ears 
of  every  music  pupil,  for  evil  habits  are  the  rock  up- 
on which  so  many  make  shipwreck  of  their  hopes 
and  aspirations. 

Avoid  Bad  Habiis.  My  apology  for  calling  attention 
afresh  to  this  old  and  hackneyed  subject  is  its  vital 
importance  and  its  vastly  deeper  meaning,  on  the 
basis  of  psychology,  than  has  hitherto  been  realized 
by  the  majority  of  people.  Why  is  it  so  important 
for  the  music  pupil  to  avoid  evil  habits? 

Because  they  are  "second  nature,"  yea,  rather,  "ten 
times  nature;"  and  we  know  how  powerful  a  thing 
nature  is  in  human  life  and  education.  In  a  previous 
chapter  we  have  seen  that  our  nervous  system  is  an 
organism  for  receiving  impressions  from  the  outer 
world  and  for  reacting  on  these  impressions.  When 
we  study  child-nature  on  a  psychological  basis  we 
soon  become  aware  of  how  numerous  and  how  power- 
ful the  native  reactive  tendencies,  the  impulses  and 
instincts  of  childhood,  are.  It  is  the  business  of  edu- 
cation to  determine  and  direct  into  proper  channels 
these  natural  reactions,  to  substitute  for  the  evil 
and  hurtful  ones  those  that  are  right  and  helpful.  It 
is  the  work  of  education  to  organize  the  elements  of 
nature  into  forces  for  good  in  the  development  of 
the  mind's  capabilities. 

This  principle  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  Kinder- 
garten method  and  the  manual  training  idea,  which 
one  has  called  "the  most  colossal  improvement  of  re- 
cent years  in  secondary  education."  To  grasp  this 
principle  and  apply  it  as  an  educating  force  is  to  un- 
derstand the  philosophy  of  education.  These  ac- 
quired reactions  of  which  we  have  spoken  are  nothing 


POWER  OF  HABIT.  77 

else  than  habits.  All  our  life,  so  far  as  it  has  definite 
form,  is  but  a  mass  of  habits,— practical,  emotional, 
and  intellectual,— systematically  organized  for  our 
weal  or  woe,  and  bearing  us  irresistibly  toward  our 
destiny,  whatever  that  may  be.* 

Habit  is  a  law  of  our  being  in  consequence  of  the 
fact  that  we  have  a  nervous  system.  In  the  words  of 
Dr.  Carpenter,  "Our  nervous  systems  have  grown 
to  the  way  in  which  they  have  been  exercised,  just  as 
a  sheet  of  paper  or  a  coat,  once  creased  or  folded 
tends  to  fall  ever  afterward  into  the  same  identical 
folds." 

"Ninety-nine  hundred ths  or,  possibly,  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  thousandths  of  our  activity  is  purely 
automatic  and  habitual,  from  our  rising  in  the  morn- 
ing to  our  lying  down  at  night."  This  is  the  mean- 
ing of  the  saying  that  "habit  is  second  nature,"  and 
this  also  explains  the  reason  why  evil  habits  should 
so  carefully  be  avoided  in  the  rudimentary  stages  of 
musical  education. 

Evil  habits  should  be  avoided  because  of  their  irresistible 
power.  Habit  is  tyrannical  in  its  nature,  and  all  the 
more  so  because  it  is  insidious  in  its  progress  and  in- 
fluence. Says  Montaigne:  "Habit  is  a  violent  and 
treacherous  schoolmistress.  She,  by  little  and  little, 
slyly  and  unperceived,  slips  in  the  foot  of  her  author- 
ity, but  having  by  this  gentle  and  humble  beginning, 
with  the  aid  of  time,  fixed  and  established  it,  she 
then  unmasks  a  furious  and  tyrannic  countenance, 
against  which  we  have  no  more  the  courage  nor  the 
power  so  much  as  to  lift  up  our  eyes." 

"Habit  at  first  is  but  a  silken  thread, 

Fine  as  the  light- winged  gossamers  that  sway 

•James,  "Talks  to  Teachers  on  Psychology." 


»,8  HABIT. 

In  the  warm  sunbeams  of  a  summer's  day; 

A  shallow  streamlet,  rippling  o'er  its  bed; 

A  tiny  sapling,  ere  its  roots  are  spread; 

A  yet  unhardened  thorn  upon  the  spray; 

A  lion's  whelp  that  has  not  scented  prey; 

A  little  smiling  child  obedient  led. 

Bewarel  that  thread  may  bind  thee  as  a  chain; 

That  streamlet  gather  to  a  fatal  sea; 

That  sapling  spread  into  a  gnarled  tree; 

That  thorn,  grown  hard,  may  wound  and  give  thee  pain; 

That  playful  whelp  his  murderous  fangs  reveal; 

That  child,  a  giant,  crush  thee  'neath  his  heel." 

Habit  has  been  called  the  "flywheel  of  society"; 
with  greater  propriety  it  is  the  flywheel  of  individual 
life.  Observe  that  mighty  engine  yonder!  Long 
after  the  steam  has  been  shut  off  the  machinery  set 
in  motion  by  the  engine  keeps  on  moving  simply  by 
the  momentum  of  its  ponderous  flywheel.  What  the 
flywheel  is  to  the  machinery,  habit  is  to  human  life 
and  action.  The  machinery  cannot  stop  until  the 
regulating  wheel  lets  it  stop;  so  men  cannot  stop  or 
change  their  course  of  life  until  the  power  of  habit 
has  been  overcome.  The  confirmed  drunkard,  the 
professional  gambler,  the  inveterate  smoker,  afford 
us  only  too  common  and  sad  examples.  Beginning 
with  single  acts,  habit  is  formed  slowly  at  first,  and 
it  is  not  till  its  spider's  threads  are  woven  into  a 
thick  cable  that  its  existence  is  suspected.  So  power- 
ful is  this  effect  of  the  constant  repetition  of  actions, 
that  men  whose  habits  are  fixed  may  be  almost  said 
to  have  lost  their  free  agency.  Their  acts  become  of 
the  nature  of  a  fixed  fate,  and  they  are  so  bound  by 
the  chains  which  they  have  forged  for  themselves, 
that  they  do  those  things  which  they  have  been 
accustomed  to  do,  even  when  they  know  they  can 
yield  them  neither  pleasure  nor  profit. 


EVIL  HABITS  HARD  TO  CORRECT.  79 

"111  habits  gather  by  unseen  degrees, 

As  brooks  make  rivers,  rivers  run  to  seas." 

— DBYDEN. 

The  delicate  snowflakes  high  up  in  the  mountains, 
falling  softly,  noiselessly,  one  by  one,  are  small  and 
insignificant  things  that  can  be  destroyed  by  an  in- 
fant's breath.  But  these  same  snowflakes,  gradually 
accumulated  from  day  to  day,  by  and  by  form  the 
mighty  avalanche  rushing  resistlessly  down  the 
Alpine  valley,  carrying  death  and  destruction  in  its 
way.  So  the  small  acts  of  daily  life,  taken  singly, 
seem  insignificant,  but  collectively  they  make  the 
character  and  shape  the  destiny  of  men. 

It  is  of  the  highest  importance  in  what  direction 
the  stream  of  life  starts  out,  and  towards  what  goal 
it  moves.  Look  at  that  boat  in  the  Niagara  River 
far  above  the  falls.  Slowly  and  indifferently  it  moves 
at  the  will  of  the  rower.  The  waters  are  calm,  there 
is  scarcely  a  perceptible  current,  the  bo  at  can  be  easily 
turned  this  way  or  that.  By  and  by  it  moves  faster 
and  still  faster;  it  is  more  difficult  now  to  change  the 
course  of  the  boat.  Now  it  is  in  the  death-grip  of  the 
resistless  rapids,  its  doom  is  fixed,  effort  of  muscle 
and  agony  of  soul  can  avail  nothing,  a  moment  later 
as  by  unalterable  fate  the  boat  with  its  unhappy  oc- 
cupant is  dashed  into  the  abyss  of  ruin!  See  in  all 
this  the  illustration  of  what  habit  is  in  education. 

We  should  avoid  evil  habits  because  it  is  hard  to  correct 
them.  Habit  grows  stronger  with  age  and  repetition, 
and  character  becomes  set;  therefore  as  the  years  go 
by  it  becomes  more  and  more  difficult  to  leave  the 
old  paths  and  turn  into  new  ones.  It  is  much  harder 
to  unlearn  than  to  learn.  If  a  crease  has  once  been 
made  in  a  sheet  of  paper,  it  is  very  hard  to  remove 


g0  HABIT. 

it;  be  careful,  therefore,  that  the  sheet  is  folded  the 
first  time  in  the  right  place,  so  that  the  effect  of  the 
folding  needs  never  be  undone.  The  Grecian  flute- 
teacher  was  justified  when  he  charged  double  fees  in 
the  case  of  those  pupils  who  had  been  taught  by  an 
inferior  teacher.  It  is  much  more  difficult  to  teach 
pupils  who  have  been  started  wrong  than  those  who 
have  made  no  start  at  all,  because  path  ways  of  mental 
and  nervous  activity  have  been  made  which  must  be 
unmade  before  there  can  be  any  real  progress,  and 
this  unmaking  is  painful  and  difficult. 

Our  bad  habits  are  thus  expensive  things;  they  cost 
us  much  money,  time,  and  annoyance  to  get  rid  of 
them.  Wrong  habits  are  like  diseases,  they  must  be 
eradicated  before  good  habits  can  be  formed.  They 
are  like  noxious  weeds  in  a  garden,  they  must  be  pul- 
led up  by  the  roots  before  useful  plants  can  be  made 
to  grow  in  their  place.  We  must  stop  using  our  minds, 
hands,  fingers  in  a  wrong  way,  and  thus  break  up 
evil  habits:  we  must  begin  doing  the  right  thing  in 
the  right  way  and  keep  on  doing  this,  and  thus  es- 
tablish good  habits. 

Avoid  the  first  mistake.  There  is  a  first  time  in  every- 
thing that  we  do,  and  this  first  time  is  of  immeasur- 
able value  in  the  matter  of  muscular,  nervous  and 
mental  training.  The  first  time  largely  determines 
all  subsequent  times.  Therefore,  when  a  new  act  is 
to  be  done,  when  something  new  is  begun,  our  first 
efforts  should  receive  our  utmost  attention  and 
care— our  initiative  should  be  the  strongest,  most 
decided,  most  wideawake  possible.  The  first  start  on 
the  road  of  life  determines  the  direction  and  the  des- 
tination of  the  journey.  The  French  maxim,  "It  is 
only  the  first  step  which  is  difficult,"  is  to  the  point 


AVOID  THE  FIRST  MISTAKE.  8l 

and  suggests  many  an  important  lesson.  It  is  an 
old  saying  that  "all  beginnings  are  difficult."  Habit 
may  be  defined  as  an  action  so  often  repeated  that  it 
repeats  itself  without  thought.  Hence  the  importance 
of  repeating  only  perfection.  The  will  must  say, 
"The  first  step  shall  be  perfect,  and  all  subsequent 
steps  or  motions  shall  faithfully  copy  the  first." 
Every  repetition  of  imperfection  is  not  only  a  loss  in 
itself,  but  it  delays  and  makes  more  difficult  the  for- 
mation of  right  habits. 

Our  chief  anxiety  should  be  from  the  beginning  to 
avoid  mistakes,  rather  than,  later  on,  to  correct 
them.  It  requires  no  more  mental  energy,  no  greater 
nervous  power,  to  do  a  thing  right  than  to  do  it 
wrong;  but  when  once  done  wrong,  it  requires  a  great 
deal  more  labor  to  undo  what  has  been  done  amiss 
than  to  do  it  the  first  time.  "An  ounce  of  prevention 
is  worth  a  pound  of  cure."  "Well  begun  is  half  done." 

The  first  music  lesson  is  a  crisis  in  the  pupil's  life. 
O  teacher,  do  you  realize  the  bearing  of  the  first  les- 
son you  give  your  pupil?  How  does  the  flywheel 
start?  What  is  the  course  of  the  little  rivulet  which 
for  the  first  time  starts  down  the  mountain  slope? 
What  is  the  pathway  which  the  first  discharge  of 
nervous  energy  marks  out  for  itself  in  flowing  down 
from  the  higher  brain-center  through  the  fingers  and 
out  upon  the  key-board?  The  first  acts  leave  behind 
in  the  cells  of  the  nerves  a  permanent  disposition  to 
act  in  the  same  way  as  on  the  first  trial. 

Pupils  are  apt  to  think  that  little  mistakes  are  not 
so  serious;  but  from  an  educational  point  of  view,  it 
is  these  first  little  mistakes  that  are  most  serious, 
indeed.  As  a  sheet  of  paper  is  sure  to  bend  a  second 
and  third  time  where  it  was  first  creased,  as  a 

Psychology.  6 


82  HABIT. 

repaired  bone  will  break  more  easily  where  it  was 
once  fractured,  as  a  scar  in  the  skin  will  be  more 
readily  inflamed  than  other  parts,  so  character  is 
always  weakest  at  that  point  where  it  has  once  given 
way,  and  those  who  have  experience  in  the  reforma- 
tion of  criminals  know  that  it  takes  a  long  time  for 
a  moral  principle  once  broken  and  restored  to  become 
so  firm  as  one  that  has  never  yielded.  This  fact  in 
moral  character  rests  precisely  on  the  same  psycho- 
logical basis  as  first  acts  in  education. 

Therefore,  never  make  a  false  note,  never  strike  a 
wrong  key,  for  when  you  do  this  once  you  are  liable 
to  do  it  again.  Have  a  clear  mental  image  of  what 
you  are  going  to  do;  then  see  to  it  that  this  concep- 
tion making  its  way  out  through  the  fingers  into  the 
keys  of  the  instrument  starts  its  path  in  just  the 
right  direction.  Prof.  Bain  lays  it  down  as  an  educa- 
tional principle  of  primary  importance,  "Never  suffer 
an  exception  to  occur  till  the  new  habit  is  securely 
rooted  in  your  life."  If  an  exception  is  allowed  to 
occur  and  the  continuity  of  training  is  broken,  not 
only  is  the  advantage  previously  gained,  lost,  but  there 
is  inaugurated  a  new  habit  in  the  wrong  direction 
which  is  the  more  difficult  to  overcome  because  it  is 
a  kind  of  victory  over  antecedent  discipline.  A 
Russian  maxim  says,  "Habits  are  a  necklace  of  pearls: 
untie  the  knot  and  the  whole  unthreads."  Each 
lapse  in  the  course  of  training  is  like  dropping  your 
ball  of  yarn  which  you  have  been  winding  up  so  care- 
fully—you have  to  do  the  whole  thing  over  again 
from  the  beginning.  "Never  lose  a  battle,"  for  every 
gain  on  the  wrong  side  undoes  the  effect  of  many 
conquests  on  the  right  side.  Be  sure  you  have  a 
right  conception  of  every  step  in  your  practice  exer- 


NEVER  DOUBT  YOUR  SUCCESS.  83 

else,  and  then  make  your  fingers  execute  accurately 
what  your  mind  holds  in  thought.  Be  sure  of  success 
at  the  start,  never  doubt  it,  for  this  attitude  of  mind 
will  give  strength  and  positiveness  to  the  nervous 
discharge  and  this  in  turn  will  deepen  the  pathway 
of  nervous  action. 

Be  not  anxious  about  your  genius;  it  is  what  it  is— 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  your  Creator  has  given 
you.  But  be  intensely  anxious  about  your  habits; 
on  that  all  depends;  that  will  decide  your  success  or 
failure  in  music,  in  life.  You,  whoever  you  are,  with 
such  talents  as  you  may  have,  can  do  wonders,  if  you 
start  right  and  work  right.  Listen  to  the  testimony 
of  a  pupil  in  whose  experience  you  may  see  the  reflec- 
tion of  your  own:  "I  have  taken  lessons  of  a  great 
many  good  teachers,  but  all  have  told  me  that  I  never 
would  be  much  of  a  player.  I  always  felt  there  was 
some  secret  withheld  from  me  which  prevented  me 
from  becoming  a  pianist.  From  the  teacher  I  now 
have  I  have  learned  to  say,  'What  I  desire  to  be,  that 
I  can  be,'  and  1  have  done  more  in  one  year  than  in 
all  the  rest  of  my  life  before.  The  secret  is  very 
simple.  I  was  never  taught  to  form  habits;  I  was 
given  exercises,  but  never  told  why  or  to  what  aim  I 
should  practice  them.  Now  I  find  that  conscious 
effort,  intelligently  directed,  enables  me  to  form  a 
habit  of  playing  a  thing  exactly  as  I  would  like  to 
play  it."* 

A  student  who  had  spent  three  years  in  pursuit  of 
his  music  studies  at  Leipzig,  Germany,  told  the 
writer  that  his  experience  was  precisely  similar  to 
that  above  described.  Extensive  observation  among 
many  students  leads  us  to  the  belief  that  this  exper- 

*"The  Etude,"  Oct.,  1897. 


84  HABIT. 

ience  is  well  nigh  universal.  It  marks  a  radical  defect 
in  existing  methods  of  music  teaching.  He  who  does 
not  encourage  his  pupil  to  develop  the  gift  that  is  in 
him  and  to  cherish  a  noble  ambition  to  make  the  best 
use  of  himself  and  directing  his  efforts  intelligently, 
cannot  be  considered  a  good  teacher. 

Says  one,  "The  days  of  instruction  in  music  are 
over  and  the  time  of  education  in  music  has  come. 
Our  chief  aim  is  to  develop,  to  educate  the  musical 
sense  of  the  pupil.  Our  essential  service  to  the  pupil 
consists  in  getting  him  to  think  for  himself."  Among 
the  foremost  thinkers  and  teachers  of  our  time  the 
great  principle  of  economy  of  habit  is  gradually  com- 
ing to  be  recognized  at  its  proper  value.  Froebel's 
grand  idea,  which  germinated  in  the  Kindergarten 
method  of  primary  instruction,  is  bearing  fruit  in  our 
day  in  promoting  rational  methods  of  teaching 
music.  Habit  is  the  great  conservator  of  mental, 
nervous  and  muscular  energy.  As  starts  the  tiny 
rivulet,  so  will  flow  the  fixed  stream;  the  forces  con- 
served and  directed  by  right  habits  in  the  beginning 
of  a  musical  education  will  issue  in  gratifying  results 
by  and  by.  Hence  the  wisdom  of  centering  special 
attention  upon  the  first  music  lesson. 

A  word  to  the  teacher,  by  way  of  a  friendly  side 
remark.  In  other  respects,  than  those  just  men- 
tioned, is  the  first  lesson  a  crisis  point  in  the  pupil's 
experience;  to  what  extent,  you  may  not  realize, 
possibly  never  be  able  to  know.  What  impression 
do  you  make  on  your  pupil?  Remember  the  educa- 
tional maxim  that  there  is  no  impression  without  a 
corresponding  expression;  every  stimulation  from 
without  has  its  attendant  and  inevitable  reaction. 
Is  your  manner  such  as  to  encourage  or  to  repel? 


LITTLE  ACTS  OF  ENCOURAGEMENT.  85 

Is  it  haughty,  cold,  unsympathetic?  Kemember  you 
are  dealing  with  a  tender  soul,  that  needs  sunshine, 
warmth,  sympathy;  it  is  like  a  rosebud,  which  will 
not  open  and  unfold  its  beauty  and  possibilities  in  a 
chilling,  biting  atmosphere.  When  Liszt  was  but 
twelve  years  of  age  he  was  advertised  to  give  a  con- 
cert; and  upon  the  solicitation  of  Schindler,  Bee- 
thoven went  to  hear  and  encourage  this  youthful 
prodigy.  When  the  little  Liszt  came  out  on  the  plat- 
form, he  saw  Beethoven  sitting  in  the  front  row.  In- 
stead of  being  unnerved  by  the  great  man's  presence, 
it  was  an  inspiration  to  him,  and  he  played  with 
great  fire  and  abandon.  In  the  storm  of  applause 
which  followed,  the  great  master  was  seen  to  step  up 
on  the  platform  and  catch  up  the  little  fellow  in  his 
arms  and  kiss  him  on  both  cheeks.  Liszt  never  for- 
got this  incident  and  used  to  repeat  it  with  great 
pride,  for  he  felt  that  the  master  had  set  the  seal  of 
greatness  upon  him  in  that  kiss*. 

Beethoven's  kiss  was  a  very  little  thing  in  itself, 
but  great  in  its  consequences;  it  was  a  timely  mark 
of  appreciation,  an  act  of  encouragement;  and  who 
knows  the  far-reaching  influences  of  these  little  acts 
of  kindness  and  love  in  the  educative  process,  in  the 
history  of  a  soul's  struggles  to  attain  its  unfolding 
into  manhood  or  womanhood?  Benjamin  West  used 
to  say,  "A  kiss  from  my  mother  made  me  a  painter." 
A  kiss  or  a  smile  of  sympathy  is  a  far  more  potent 
factor  than  a  cuff  or  a  frown  in  the  business  of  devel- 
oping a  pupil's  possibilities.  Sympathy  is  a  grand 
essential  in  the  qualification  of  the  teacher.  He  needs 
to  know  not  only  human  nature,  but  he  must  under- 
stand pupil  nature,  which  is  something  quite  peculiar. 

*  Gates,  "Anecdotes  of  Great  Musicians." 


86  HABIT. 

True  sympathy  recognizes  the  pupil's  possibilities,  as 
well  as  his  difficulties  and  discouragements;  and  it 
knows  how  to  speak  the  timely  words,  which  are  as 
"apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver,"  or  do  the 
friendly  act,  which  is  as  the  refreshing  shower  to 
withering  vegetation.  To  teach  pupils  well  and  to 
get  the  stream  of  their  energies  started  in  the  right 
direction  they  must  be  loved  much. 

Love  is  a  great  thing  in  the  work  of  opening  the 
latent  powers  and  beauties  of  the  soul.  Loving 
sympathy  is  a  never-failing  means  of  getting  into  the 
heart  of  persons  and  things.  It  is  so  in  the  higher 
realm  of  art-interpretation— in  dealing  with  the 
products  of  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  music — 
in  the  interpretation  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  The 
"light  and  sweetness,"  the  beauty  contained  in  the 
poem,  the  picture,  the  statue,  the  musical  composi- 
tion will  yield  to  the  touch  of  love  when  they  yield  to 
nothing  else.  The  great  forces  of  mind  and  heart, 
the  hidden  riches  of  literature,  art  and  common  life, 
in  all  ages  and  countries  to  the  end  of  time  evermore 
yield  promptly  to  the  beckoning  magic  wand  of  love. 
And  it  is  so  in  the  art  of  teaching,  in  the  opening  of 
the  mind  to  truth  and  of  truth  to  the  mind.  He  who 
knows  the  value  of  these  educational  principles  will 
appreciate  also  the  bearing  of  the  teacher's  manner 
at  his  first  meeting  with  the  pupil,  on  the  pupil's  sub- 
sequent career. 

Suggestions  for  the  Formation  of  Right  Habits.  A  few 
hints  in  regard  to  the  formation  of  useful  habits  may 
not  be  out  of  place,  and  may  prove  of  service  to  the 
student. 

First  among  these,  as  truly  conditioning  all  the 
rest,  must  be  mentioned  a  strong  and  decided  ini- 


CONCENTRATION  AND  INTENSITY.  87 

tiative.  As  this  in  substance  has  just  been  explained, 
we  need  here  simply  to  give  it  mention. 

Secondly.  Practice  concentration  of  thought  and 
intensity  of  effort.  The  wise  man  long  ago  formula- 
ted this  principle  for  us  in  words  familiar  to  every  one: 
"Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
might"  (Eccl.  9: 10).  Herein  is  stated  the  first  law 
of  success;  those  who  heed  this  rule  are  likely  to  suc- 
ceed. This  does  not  mean  doing  things  with  one's 
might  on  particular  occasions  or  by  spasmodic 
efforts,  but  it  means  habitually  so  doing.  When  the 
piano  player,  or  organ  player,  or  violin  player  con- 
centrates all  the  energy  of  mind  and  heart  and  hand 
upon  his  work,  success  is  assured,  for  thereby  is  gen- 
erated such  a  power  of  doing  the  right  thing  in  the 
right  way  that  it  will  overcome  all  opposing  difficul- 
ties. The  Apostle  Paul  made  it  his  rule,  "This  one 
thing  I  do,"  and  this  explains  largely  the  wonderful 
success  of  his  labors.  Charles  Dickens  once  said: 
"Whatever  I  have  tried  to  do  in  my  life,  I  have  tried 
with  all  my  heart  to  do  it  well.  What  I  have  devoted 
myself  to,  I  have  devoted  myself  completely.  Never 
to  put  one  hand  to  any  thing  on  which  I  would  not 
throw  my  whole  self,  and  never  to  affect  depreciation 
of  my  work,  whatever  it  was,  I  find  now  to  have  been 
golden  rules."  Of  king  Hezekiah  it  is  said,  "In  every 
work  that  he  began, ...  he  did  it  with  all  his  heart, 
and  prospered"  (2  Chron.  31:  21). 

All  these  sayings  rest  on  true  psychological  ground 
and  may  be  explained  in  the  light  of  well  known  prin- 
ciples. When  the  rays  of  the  sun  are  scattered  they 
are  not  most  effective  for  doing  work,  but  when  they 
are  converged  to  a  focus  by  a  burning  glass  they 
become  powerful  enough  to  ignite  combustible  sub- 


stances.  When  the  electric  fluid  in  the  thunder-clouds 
is  dispersed  by  many  metallic  points  raised  on  the 
surface  of  the  earth  there  is  little  danger  from  light- 
ning, but  when  the  fluid  is  allowed  to  accumulate  it 
acquires  such  a  degree  of  tension  as  to  cause  the 
dreaded  thunder-bolt  to  leap  from  the  sky  to  the 
earth  carrying  death  and  destruction  in  its  way.  If 
the  water  in  a  great  reservoir  is  allowed  to  escape  in 
ten  thousand  little  rills  it  will  all  run  off  to  no  pur- 
pose, but  if  these  rills  are  turned  into  one  stream  a 
mighty  torrent  is  produced  which  no  human  power 
can  resist.  So  it  is  with  the  energy  of  the  human 
soul:  dissipated,  it  can  accomplish  little;  but  turned 
upon  one  point,  it  performs  wonders.  In  the  case  of 
the  piano  player  our  principle  finds  an  important 
application.  Concentration  of  effort  is  a  substitute  for 
long  and  wearisome  hours  of  practice.  Rubinstein 
being  asked  by  a  young  lady  pianist  how  many  hours 
it  was  necessary  to  practice  each  day,  replied  that  for 
Americans,  and  especially  ladies,  an  average  of  three 
hours  a  day  was  the  extreme  limit,  and  less  rather 
than  more  should  be  the  rule.  Jacobsohn,  the 
violinist,  said  that  he  practiced  only  one  hour  a  day, 
but  that  this  hour  is  so  intense  in  nervous  exertion 
that  he  is  completely  exhausted  and  dripping  with 
perspiration  at  the  end  of  that  time. 

These  sentiments  are  founded  on  the  nature  of  mind 
and  are  confirmed  by  experience.  The  human  mind 
cannot  concentrate  its  good  and  powerful  thought 
on  any  one  subject  for  more  than  three  or  four  hours 
out  of  the  twenty-four.  Education  trains  us  to  get 
the  greatest  results  out  of  the  least  expenditure  of 
effort.  Those  who  practice  many  hours  a  day  must 
put  forth  painful  and  long-continued  effort,  and  they 


PHYSICAL  CONDITIONS.  89 

get  but  meager  results.  Concentration  is  economy 
of  mental  and  nervous  power,  and  also  of  time.  One 
hour  with  concentrated  thought  is  equal  to  four 
hours  with  weak  and  dissipated  thought.  Therefore, 
reduce  the  hours  of  work  and  waste  by  concentration 
of  thought.  Then  will  more  of  the  pupil's  time  be  left 
for  other  things  in  the  way  of  improvement  in  general 
culture;  then  will  the  habit  of  concentrating  all  his 
powers  become  firmly  established  and  effort  in  every 
direction  will  become  many  times  more  effective  and 
easy. 

"Applied  concentration  makes  a  musician,  an  artist, 
a  poet,  a  philosopher."  It  is  a  great  truth,  and 
worthy  of  all  acceptation.  The  degree  of  success  a 
man  achieves  and  the  rank  he  attains  in  any  calling 
depend  more  on  this  'applied  concentration'  than  on 
the  gift  of  genius  or  on  accident.  When  he  has  learned 
to  bend  his  whole  attention  on  the  details  of  his  work 
he  is  on  the  highway  of  success  in  his  chosen  calling. 
A  powerful  central  nerve  current  is  necessary  for  a 
free  hand  and  finger  movement,  for  sure  action,  for  a 
steady  stroke,  for  a  tender  touch,  for  self-control  and 
an  easy,  graceful  pose  at  the  instrument;  it  is  a  sure 
antidote  for  nervousness  and  trembling. 

Among  the  incidental  requisites  to  such  a  powerful 
nerve  current  maybe  mentioned,  first,  proper  nourish- 
ment, which  will  secure  a  good  fund  of  rich  arterialized 
blood,  which  in  turn  imparts  tone  and  a  healthy  glow 
to  the  bodily  members.  Then,  there  should  be  free 
circulation  of  the  blood,  so  as  to  secure  an  equitable 
distribution  of  the  life-forces  carried  by  the  blood, 
and  relieve  all  tendencies  to  local  congestion  in  some 
parts  and  the  absence  of  blood  in  others,  which  gives 
rise  to  an  uneasy,  restless,  excited  state  of  mind  and 


body.  Proper  exercise  must  be  attended  to— vigor- 
ous, active  exercise  out  in  the  open  air  and  in  God's 
unclouded  sunshine — exercise  that  will  open  the  pores 
of  the  skin,  send  the  color  to  the  cheeks,  and  bring  a 
delightful  glow  to  the  whole  body.  Having  taken 
such  exercise  and  having  rested  a  while,  the  player 
will  resume  his  work  at  the  instrument  with  better 
control  of  muscles  and  nerves  and  he  will  be  able  to 
employ  such  mental  powers  as  he  may  possess  to 
much  better  advantage  than  he  could  before.  Besides 
all  this,  he  will  really  enjoy  his  practicing.  Some  one 
tells  us  that  his  remedy  for  stage-fright  is  to  ad- 
minister to  the  afflicted  one  a  severe  slapping  on  the 
bare  back  until  the  skin  smarts,  and  that  this  remedy 
never  fails.  The  principle  involved  is  the  same  as 
that  above  described,  and  rests  on  good  physiological 
ground. 

But  the  great  requisite  is  undivided  attention. 
"This  one  thing  I  do," — on  one  thing  I  fix  my  atten- 
tion, to  one  thing  I  devote  my  whole  being,  into  one 
thing  I  pour  the  whole  stream  of  my  activity,  mental 
and  physical.  "Be  a  whole  man  at  everything",  was 
the  advice  of  a  celebrated  Englishman  to  his  son  at 
school.  It  is  the  lack  of  this  wholeness  of  purpose 
and  energy  which  distinguishes  the  half-hearted  and 
blundering,  the  faltering  and  the  weakling,  from 
those  that  win  the  victories  of  life.  To  make  all  the 
nerve-forces  flow  in  one  channel  is  to  make  the  central 
current  powerful  and  effective,  whilst  to  allow  numer- 
ous side  branchings  is  to  weaken  and  dissipate  the 
effect.  Says  a  shrewd  American  essayist:  "The  one 
prudence  in  life  is  concentration,  the  one  evil  is  dis- 
sipation; and  it  makes  no  difference  whether  our  dis- 
sipations are  coarse  or  fine — property  and  its  cares, 


UNDIVIDED  ATTENTION.  91 

friends  and  a  social  habit,  or  politics,  or  music,  or 
feasting.  Everything  is  good  which  takes  away  one 
plaything  and  delusion  more,  and  drives  us  home  to 
add  one  stroke  of  faithful  work." 

The  culture  of  a  healthy,  vigorous  soul  is  like  that 
of  a  tree.  The  prudent  gardener  does  not  suffer  the 
sap  to  be  diverted  into  a  thousand  channels  merely 
to  develop  a  myriad  of  profitless  twigs;  he  prunes  the 
off-shoots,  and  leaves  the  vital  juices  to  be  absorbed 
by  a  few  vigorous  fruit-bearing  branches.  Mental 
dissipation  is  peculiarly  our  American  sin;  we  squan- 
der our  energies  upon  a  distract  ing,  bewildering  varie- 
ty of  objects,  instead  of  condensing  them  upon  one 
thing.  The  general  who  scatters  his  soldiers  all  over 
the  field  thereby  ensures  defeat;  so  he,  whose  attention 
is  forever  diffused  through  so  many  channels  that  it 
can  never  gather  force  on  any  one  point.  Notice  those 
clouds  of  steam  as  they  rise  in  the  sky.  Nothing  is 
more  powerless;  they  are  as  impotent  as  thedewdrops 
that  fall  nightly  upon  the  earth.  But  concentrated 
and  condensed  in  a  steam-boiler,  they  are  able  to  cut 
through  solid  rock  and  to  hurl  mountains  into  the 
sea.  What  made  William  Pitt  the  so-called  "heaven- 
born  statesman?"  It  was  the  marvelous  power  of 
concentrating  his  powers;  it  was  the  habit  of  bending 
all  his  energies  upon  the  thing  in  hand.  Whatever 
he  did,  he  did  with  all  his  might.  With  him  there 
was  no  half  vision,  no  sleepy  eyes,  no  dawning  sense. 
"All  his  life  he  had  his  wits  about  him  so  intensely 
directed  to  the  point  required,  that  it  is  said,  he 
seemed  never  to  learn,  but  simply  to  recollect ...  Is 
it  strange  that  such  a  man  went  straightway  from 
college  into  the  House  of  Commons,  and  in  two  years 
to  the  Prime  Ministership  of  Great  Britain, — reigned, 


Q2  HABIT. 

for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  virtually  king,—- 
and  carried  his  measures  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of 
some  of  the  greatest  men  England  ever  produced?" 
The  simple  secret  of  his  success  was  that  all  the  power 
of  his  soul  was  concentrated  on  one  purpose. 

Concentration  of  soul-power  will  do  wonders  for  all 
workers,  as  it  did  for  Pitt,  Luther,  Bismarck,  Haydn, 
Mozart,  Beethoven,  Handel,  Bach,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  world's  renowned  worthies.  Be  not  anxious 
about  your  genius,— it  is  what  it  is, — do  not  stand 
lamenting  the  parsimony  of  nature  in  the  bestowment 
of  gifts  upon  yourself,  for  that  will  avail  nothing. 
But  be  attentive,  diligent,  soul-centered  workers. 
"Why  stand  ye  here  idle  all  day  long?  Go,  work  in 
my  vineyard,"  is  heaven's  call  to  you  whoever  you 
may  be.  Concentrate  your  powers  of  mind  and  soul 
and  body  on  the  one  purpose  of  your  life— that  will 
tell  the  story,  that  will  decide  whether  you  shall  at- 
tain an  honorable  rank  in  your  calling  or  remain  for- 
ever a  common  drudge. 

Industry,  application,  labor  are  necessary  in  order 
to  achieve  excellence  in  music  as  well  as  in  painting, 
sculpture,  and  literature.  Remember  Mr.  Wirt's 
motto,  "There  is  no  excellence  without  great  labor." 
Before  a  concentration  of  your  powers,  before  de- 
termined effort,  before  unremitting  toil  and  applica- 
tion and  industry  your  bug-bear  difficulties  will  van- 
ish and  your  defeats  will  be  organized  into  victories. 
Handel  was  an  indefatigable  worker.  His  biographer 
says  of  him:  "He  braved  everything,  and,  by  his  un- 
aided self,  accomplished  the  work  of  twelve  men." 
Haydn,  speaking  of  his  art,  said,  "It  consists  in  taking 
up  a  subject  and  pursuing  it."  Mozart  declared  that 
"work  was  his  chief  pleasure."  Beethoven's  favorite 


GENIUS  NO  SUBSTITUTE  FOR  LABOR.  93 

maxim  was:  "The  barriers  are  not  erected  which  can 
say  to  aspiring  talents  and  industry,  'Thus  far  and 
no  farther'."  John  Sebastian  Bach  said:  "I  was  in- 
dustrious; whoever  is  equally  sedulous,  will  be  equally 
successful." 

All  the  great  composers  have  been  earnest  students 
and  hard  workers.  Genius  is  no  substitute  for  labor. 
"Eternal  vigilance,"  it  has  been  said,  "is  the  price  of 
our  liberty:"  it  is  also  the  price  of  our  success  in 
music.  The  lives  of  great  composers  teach  us  that 
they  went  about  their  tasks  willingly  and  enthusias- 
tically, doing  well  each  task  as  it  came  and  being  con- 
tent with  moderate  progress.  "Great  men  take  short 
steps  carefully,"  no  matter  how  rapidly  they  are  to 
go.  Robert  Schumann  wrote,  "Success  comes  with 
tiny  steps."  These  facts  and  utterances  should  bring 
comfort  to  the  disheartened  and  kindle  courage  in  the 
timid  and  despairing.  Perchance  you  have  but  one 
talent;  then  find  it,  prize  it,  improve  it  by  faithful, 
earnest,  conscientious  work.  Know  that  every  step 
of  the  way,  every  effort,  every  earnest  endeavor  brings 
its  sure  reward.  Stroke  after  stroke,  year  after  year, 
if  you  go  on  patiently,  the  habit  of  industry,  of  con- 
centration, of  careful,  thoughtful  work,  will  become 
more  firmly  fixed  and  also  more  easy. 

If  you  cannot  accomplish  as  much  as  the  masters, 
you  need  not  despair;  you  can  still  do  a  great  deal — 
far  more  than  you  think.  If  men  give  their  whole 
attention  to  a  subject,  concentrate  all  their  power 
upon  their  work,  they  will  be  able  to  accomplish 
much;  on  the  other  hand,  if  they  give  only  a  few  oc- 
casional minutes  and  desultory  efforts  to  their  work, 
they  will  accomplish  but  little.  If  you  expect  to  make 
your  music  a  success  you  must  give  time  and  labor 


94  HABIT. 

and  undivided  attention  to  it.  Set  high  your  aim,  then 
go  forward  courageously  in  pursuit  of  it.  Lay  deep 
the  foundation,  start  the  current  of  energy  in  the 
right  direction,  see  to  it  that  the  paths  down  among 
the  brain-cells  are  being  marked  out  in  the  right  way, 
concentrate  all  your  forces  into  a  powerful  central 
current,  and  never  doubt  your  ultimate  success.  "It 
is  a  beautiful  arrangement  in  our  nature  that  the  re- 
ward for  patient,  faithful  work  comes  silently  to  us, 
and  often  we  do  not  know  of  its  presence.  But  some 
day  finding  ourselves  stronger,  we  look  to  know  the 
cause  of  it,  and  we  see  that  the  faithfulness  of  past 
days  has  borne  precious  fruit."* 

But  such  a  course  of  training  and  habit-forming  as 
we  are  urging  here  requires  great  will-power.  Yes, 
indeed;  let  us  settle  this  with  ourselves  from  the  start. 
No  one  becomes  a  great  musician  without  vigorously 
willing  to  be  such.  As  in  a  great  manufacturing  es- 
tablishment it  is  the  powerful  engine  hidden  away 
somewhere  in  a  room  by  itself,  that  drives  all  the 
machinery;  so  in  the  busy  life  of  the  brain  worker  it 
is  the  powerful  will  behind  all,  that  gives  motion  and 
direction  to  the  nervous  forces,  to  the  muscles,  to  the 
hands,  to  the  whole  being  in  all  the  routine  of  daily 
exercises.  The  will  conditions  almost  everything  in 
the  history  of  art-achievement.  If  we  have  simply 
will  to  be  and  do  something,  we  are  already  on  the 
highway  of  success.  Let  us  try  to  understand  this  as 
music  students  in  the  matter  of  forming  habits  of 
concentration  and  attention:  it  will  prove  a  talisman 
to  our  success.  "Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way." 
Do  we  understand  what  this  really  means?  Do  we 
realize  the  truth  of  this  old  maxim,  so  as  to  become 

*  Tapper,  "Musical  Talks,"  etc. 


POWER  OF  WILL.  95 

to  us  a  working  rule?  On  all  sides  we  find  limits  to 
our  power;  still  it  is  generally  true  that  he  who  in- 
tensely wills  to  do  a  thing  finds  a  way  for  its  accom- 
plishment. "An  intense  desire  itself  transforms  pos- 
sibility into  reality.  Our  wishes  are  but  prophecies 
of  the  things  we  are  capable  of  performing;  while  on 
the  other  hand,  the  timid,  feeble-willed  man  finds 
everything  impossible  because  he  believes  it  to  be  so. 
To  resolve  upon  attainment  is  often  attainment  it- 
self." 

Nearly  all  great  men  have  been  remarkable  for  their 
great  energy  of  will.  Napoleon's  wonderful  success 
was  due  not  more  to  his  vast  military  genius,  than  to 
his  almost  super-human  will.  "Impossible,"  said  he, 
"is  a  word  only  to  be  found  in  the  dictionaries  of 
fools."  When  told  that  the  Alps  stood  in  the  way  of 
his  armies  he  replied,  "There  shall  be  no  Alps!"  and 
the  Simplon  Pass  was  the  result.  Dr.  Thomas  Arnold 
of  Rugby  fame  said,  "The  difference  between  one  boy 
and  another  consists  not  so  much  hi  talent  as  in  ener- 
gy." And  Sir  Thomas  Fowell  Buxton  has  given  this 
valuable  testimony:  "The  longer  I  live, the  more  lam 
certain  that  the  great  difference  between  men,  bet  ween 
the  great  and  the  insignificant,  is  energy,  invincible 
determination,  an  honest  purpose  once  fixed,  and  then 
death  or  victory.  This  quality  will  do  almost  any- 
thing in  the  world,  and  no  talents,  no  circumstances, 
will  make  a  two-legged  creature  a  man  without  it.  .  . 
I  am  sure  a  young  man  may  be  very  much  what  he 
pleases." 

These  earnest,  thrilling  words  coming  from  such 
sources,  deserve  to  be  heeded  and  treasured  by  the 
student:  they  will  prove  helpful,  they  will  ennoble  his 
life  and  kindle  inspiration  to  work.  To  think  we  are 


96  HABIT. 

able  to  be  something  is  itself  a  long  step  towards  the 
realization  of  our  wish.  "The  truest  wisdom  is  a  res- 
olute determination,"  was  one  of  Napoleon's  favorite 
maxims.  Have  the  courage  to  will  something  noble 
and  worthy  of  yourself,  and  then  follow  up  your  will- 
ing with  determined,  persistent,  concentrated  effort, 
and  what  may  you  not  achieve?  Be  earnest  and  brave, 
and  have  faith  in  your  ability.  "Woe  unto  him  that 
is  faint-hearted,"  says  the  son  of  Sirach.  A  good  old 
German  proverb  expresses  admirably  the  same  senti- 
ment, "Den  Muthigen  gehort  die  Welt." 

"Resolute  determination  in  the  pursuit  of  worthy 
objects  is  the  foundation  of  all  true  greatness  of  char- 
acter. Energy  enables  a  man  to  force  his  way  through 
irksome  drudgery  and  dry  detail,  and  carries  him  on- 
ward and  upward  in  every  station  of  life.  It  is  not 
eminent  talent  that  is  required  to  insure  success  in  any 
pursuit,  so  much  as  purpose — not  merely  the  power 
to  achieve,  but  the  will  to  labor  energetically  and 
perseveringly.  Hence  energy  of  will  may  be  denned 
to  be  the  very  central  power  of  character  in  man— in 
a  word,  it  is  the  man  himself.  It  gives  impulse  to  his 
every  action,  and  soul  to  every  effort.  True  hope  is 
based  on  it,  and  it  is  hope  that  gives  the  real  per- 
fumes of  life."* 

The  great  thing  willed,  the  good  purpose  once 
formed,  must  then  be  carried  out  with  alacrity.  "In 
life  nothing  bears  fruit  except  by  labor  of  mind  or 
body."  The  statement  is  grounded  in  basal  facts  of 
human  nature.  He  who  allows  his  application  to 
flag,  or  neglects  his  work  on  frivolous  pretexts,  is  on 
the  sure  road  to  ultimate  failure,  because  the  habit  of 
doing  so  as  irresistibly  carries  him  to  that  end  as  the 

*  Smiles,  "Self  Help." 


EVILS  OF  THOUGHTLESSNESS.  97 

rapids  carry  the  boat  once  in  their  grasp  over  the 
falls.  Every  task  should  be  undertaken  in  a  whole- 
hearted way  and  as  a  thing  not  to  be  omitted  on 
slight  occasion.  When  work  is  habitually  done  in 
this  way  it  will  soon  lose  its  drudgery  and  will  become 
easy  and  pleasant,  for  concentration  of  energy,  ap- 
plication, holding  the  will  to  a  steady  purpose  are 
habits,  and  like  all  other  habits,  become  second  na- 
ture after  a  time.  If  we  have  formed  habits  of  allow- 
ing our  minds  to  run  from  one  thing  to  another  with- 
out direction,  we  must  not  be  surprised  if  by  and  by 
it  becomes  well  nigh  impossible  to  hold  them  to  any 
one  subject  for  an  appreciable  length  of  time.  On  the 
other  hand  all  valuable  habits  are  formed  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  voluntary  attention.* 

Thirdly,  Give  Thought  to  What  You  Do.  Thoughtless- 
ness is  the  great  enemy  of  progress  in  all  branches  of 
study  and  pursuit;  it  is  the  giant  evil  that  is  respon- 
sible for  the  great  majority  of  mistakes  which  cause 
so  much  annoyance  and  prove  so  expensive  and  dis- 
astrous. Thoughtlessness  is  principally  a  bad  habit, 
and  moreover  the  parent  of  an  innumerable  progeny 
of  other  evil  habits.  It  is  the  evil  spirit,  which  return- 
ing to  the  house  whence  it  had  been  cast  out  and 
finding  the  house  unoccupied,  took  unto  itself  seven 
other  evil  spirits,  and  the  latter  condition  was  worse 
than  the  former.  Some  one  has  said  that  "the 
harm  of  the  world  is  done  by  two  forces, — by  evil 
thought  and  by  thoughtlessness."  Observe  that 
thoughtlessness,  that  is,  the  absence  of  thought,  the 
vacant,  unoccupied  state  of  mind,  is  one  of  these 
harmful  forces.  It  is  a  truth  of  vital  importance  to 
the  music  student.  Many  are  disposed  to  regard  this 

*  Buell,  "Essentials  of  Psychology." 

Ptvohology.  i 


matter  lightly  and  even  to  speak  apologetically  con- 
cerning it,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  course  and  not 
attended  by  serious  consequences;  but  in  the  light  of 
psychological  principles  it  is  in  reality  a  very  serious 
thing.  What  pathway  does  the  thoughtless  act  make 
for  itself  among  the  braincells?  That  in  a  large 
measure  will  determine  subsequent  acts. 

No  one  can  afford  to  sit  down  to  his  instrument 
and  let  his  fingers  wander  listlessly  over  the  keyboard 
while  his  thoughts  are  roving  idly  about.  If  only  he 
could  see  the  mischief  that  meanwhile  is  being  done 
down  among  the  braincells  and  in  the  nervous  and 
muscular  fibers  he  would  be  startled  and  perhaps 
cured  of  his  fatal  error.  When  the  hands  and  fingers 
are  not  guided  by  careful  thought  they  perform  many 
unnecessary,  and  injurious  motions  which  soon  grow 
into  second  nature  and  thus  effectually  bar  the  way 
of  progress  in  the  right  direction;  instead  of  increas- 
ing one's  power  and  effectiveness  of  manipulation, 
they  weaken  him;  they  are  just  so  much  precious 
nerve-force  wasted  and  worse  than  wasted,  they  are 
like  the  minute  worm  holes  in  the  dyke  which  little  by 
little  make  way  for  the  influx  of  the  destructive  ocean 
billows.  There  is  great  need  of  earnest  thought  in 
the  ordinary  hand  and  finger  exercises  which  are  too 
often  performed  in  the  most  mechanical  and  indif- 
ferent kind  of  way.  We  know,  alas!  too  well  what 
the  results  are.  The  music  which  is  performed  with- 
out thought  is  certainly  never  the  highest  order  of 
music,  and  the  work  at  the  piano  which  proceeds 
without  discriminating  thought  is  not  the  best  kind 
of  work.  Nothing  can  be  done  well  without  thought. 
All  excellence,  whether  in  common  manual  labor,  in 
art,  in  literature,  in  music  is  the  product  of  intelligent 
thought. 


THOUGHT  MUST  GUIDE  THE  HAND.  99 

The  practical  lesson  from  all  this  is  to  avoid  list- 
lessness,  absent-mindedness,  thoughtlessness  while 
practicing  exercises.  No  teacher  should  allow  his 
pupil  to  proceed  with  the  lesson  if  his  thought  is  not 
centered  upon  the  exercise,  for  reasons  apparent  to 
all.  Listen  to  the  earnest  words  of  Dr.  Mertz:  "Never 
practise  listlessly;  always  have  your  whole  mind  and 
heart  on  your  work,  Know  what  you  do  and  why 
you  do  it." 

The  hand  is  the  medium  through  which  the  musical 
thoughts  of  our  hearts  flow  out  into  the  key-board 
in  the  act  of  playing,  or  into  the  notes  in  the  act  of 
composing  a  piece  of  music.  The  hand  is  the  inter- 
preter of  the  mind;  in  art  products,  it  is  the  grand 
outlet  of  thought,  the  highway  of  soul-power,  the 
medium  of  expression.  In  order  that  the  hand  may 
be  an  efficient  servant,  it  must  be  trained  and  kept 
under  control.  But  how  is  this  done?  By  careful 
thought.  It  is  well  enough  to  keep  practicing  until 
certain  movements  of  the  hands  and  fingers  become 
automatic;  but  the  best  work  of  the  hands  arid  fingers 
is  always  done  when  they  are  directed  by  the  thought 
of  the  player.  Music  which  is  performed  wholly  by 
automatic  movements  is  of  the  kind  that  the  organ- 
grinder  grinds  out  of  his  music  box — it  is  sound,  but 
lacks  soul,— lacks  expression,  because  there  is  no 
thought  to  express.  Such  also  is  the  music  which  is 
nothing  but  that  kind  of  technique  which  requires 
no  thought  on  the  part  of  the  player  hi  the  act  of  per- 
forming it. 

Who  is  the  great  pianist?  Not  he,  who  can  beat 
on  the  keys  with  the  greatest  force  and  produce  the 
greatest  volume  of  sound;  a  common  stone  breaker 
can  do  that.  Who  is  the  great  violinist?  Not  he, 


100  HABIT. 

who  can  perform  all  kinds  of  odd  movements,  cut  up 
all  sorts  of  capers  on  the  poor,  afflicted,  long-suffering 
strings  of  his  violin.  Let  not  appearances  deceive;  that 
is  not  art;  that  is  the  merest  sham  of  art.  Who  is  the 
true  painter-artist?  Not  he,  who  can  make  a  loud  dis- 
play of  colors  and  sketch  fantastic  figures  and  strike 
startling  poses.  Who  is  the  well-dressed  lady  or 
gentleman?  Not  those,  who  attract  the  attention  of 
everybody  on  the  street.  He  is  the  great  pianist,  the 
great  violinist,  the  true  painter-artist,  who  has  his 
mind  first  of  all  filled  with  great  thoughts,  lofty  and 
noble  ideals,  and  who,  by  many  years  of  thoughtful 
training,  has  taught  his  hands  to  obey  the  commands 
of  his  will  in  the  effort  adequately  to  express  his 
thoughts  and  ideals,  and  interpret  them  in  terms  of 
common  simple  life.  Oh!  one  grows  weary  of  all  this 
hah7  intelligent  twaddle  about  musical  artists  in  our 
day.  True  art  is  never  demonstrative.  As  the  true 
artist  approaches  nearer  and  nearer  the  heart  of  his 
subject,  he  is  less  disposed  to  affect  brilliancy.  The 
masters  are  quiet  and  simple  in  proportion  as  they 
become  acquainted  with  the  higher  beauties  of  their 
art.  It  is  with  them  as  with  mountain  climbers— in 
the  valleys  and  low  foot  hills  they  may  be  gay  and 
noisy,  but  when  they  rise  into  the  sublime  heights 
they  become  silent,  serious,  thoughtful. 

What  is  it  that  makes  our  great  masterpieces  of 
painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  poetry,  music  so 
grand  and  beautiful  and  lasting?  It  is  the  thought 
they  contain  and  express;  behind  these  great  works 
is  always  a  greater  soul  with  its  precious  thought- 
treasures.  To  such  souls  demonstration  and  affected 
brilliancy  are  as  foreign  as  boisterous  garrulity  or 
idle  jesting  is  foreign  to  the  sublime  mountain  peak. 


RATIONAL  METHODS.  IOI 

When  we  as  art  students,  as  makers  or  hearers  of 
music,  come  to  rest  our  judgment  upon  such  ideas  of 
art  and  artists,  then  are  we  not  far  from  the  true 
kingdom  of  art— all  else  is  false  and  unworthy  the 
name.  So  much  by  way  of  parenthesis. 

Our  remarks  have  brought  into  view  a  principle, 
which  we  must  pause  here  to  apply.  We  have  said 
that  everything  should  be  clearly  thought  out  in  the 
mind  before  the  hands  are  called  on  to  act.  But 
what  does  this  suggest  as  to  methods  of  learning 
music?  We  answer  by  asking  another  question,  Is 
that  a  normal,  a  rational  method  which  sends  the 
learner,  the  first  thing  he  does,  to  the  piano  and  bids 
him  hammer  away  at  an  etude  of  which  he  has  not  a 
single  intelligent  idea  and  to  which  he  has  not  given 
a  moment  of  thought?  How  can  one  do  thoughtfully 
that  of  which  he  has  not  a  single  thought?  How  can 
the  hands  be  guided  by  thought  where  there  is  no 
thought  in  the  mind  about  that  which  the  hands  are 
to  execute?  Will  you  first  set  the  hands  and  fingers 
into  a  hit-or-miss  kind  of  movement  with  the  hope 
that  thought  would  make  its  way  up  through  the 
fingers  into  the  empty  head  and  heart?  Vain  hope! 
Idle  delusion!  Fatal  error!  Reverse  the  order;  follow 
nature.  First  fill  the  mind  and  heart  with  thought, 
with  ideas,  and  then  let  these  flow  down  from  the 
higher  centers  through  their  appropriate  motor 
channels  and  out  through  the  hands  and  fingers  upon 
the  keyboard.  Manifestly  the  pupil  should  first  give 
his  thought  to  the  exercise,  st udy  it,  learn  it,  find  out 
what  it  contains  and  what  the  composer  wishes  to 
convey  by  it;  when  he  has  done  this  he  is  ready  to  be- 
gin the  practice  of  it  at  the  piano;  not  before. 
Don't  take  your  new  piece  to  the  piano  to  try  it 


102  HABIT. 

over,  but  rather  sit  down  in  some  quiet  corner  and 
go  over  it  mentally.  Study  out  its  inner  meaning, 
its  conception,  its  harmonies  and  effect.  Then  go  to 
the  piano,  and,  with  this  mental  picture  vividly  pho- 
tographed on  your  mind,  endeavor  through  the  ex- 
ercise of  will-power,  to  make  your  fingers  perform  it 
as  you  have  conceived  it.  Your  first  attempts  will 
naturally  prove  unsatisfactory,  but  this  will  be  the 
fault  of  the  hands  and  not  of  the  brain.  The  practice 
01  reading  over  mentally  a  composition  time  and 
again  cannot  be  too  earnestly  recommended.  That 
mental  conception  of  music,  which  is  everything  in 
playing,  is  frequently  to  be  obtained  only  in  this  way. 
So  many  players  devote  so  much  attention  to  tech- 
nique that  the  most  you  can  say  of  their  pieces  is 
that  they  are  executed  (as  one  executes  a  criminal), 
not-played.*  There  is  too  much  bodily  exercise  "which 
profiteth  little,"  too  little  brain  work  in  the  average 
music  pupil's  practice.  The  learner  should  study  the 
piece  he  is  to  practice,  he  should  think  musically. 
"Pupils  often  practice  for  months  upon  a  piece  with- 
out really  knowing  a  single  period  of  it;  their  practice 
calls  into  exercise  not  a  single  idea,  not  a  single  effort 
of  mind  to  guide  the  fingers  and  give  them  certainty 
of  movement,  firmness  of  stroke,  or  delicacy  of  touch; 
it  consists  in  mere  mechanical  playing  of  the  notes, 
no  impression  whatever  being  made  upon  the  brain, 
for  the  mind  has  not  listened,  the  eyes  have  simply 
looked  to  see  that  the  fingers  struck  the  correct 
keys."  Such  work  is  waste  of  time,  waste  of  nerves, 
waste  of  muscle— it  never  makes  musicians.  If  pupils 
were  taught  to  study  music,  there  would  be  more 
musicians,  and-fewer  playing  machines,  fewer  organ- 

*  "The  Etude,"  March,  1897. 


NEED  OF  INTELLIGENCE.  IOJ 

grinders  and  piano  beaters.  "In  the  mad  rush  after 
technique  the  brain  has  been  forgotten,  the  mind  has 
been  neglected;  it  has  never  learned  the  mysterious 
language  of  sound  and  therefore  cannot  understand 
the  printed  music  except  only  as  the  music  is  inter- 
preted by  the  fingers,  and  what  kind  of  interpre- 
tation is  that  which  knows  nothing  about  the  thought 
contained  in  the  printed  characters?" 

Bring  Intelligence  into  Your  Work.  What  is  meant  by 
this?  Broad,  general  intelligence  is  necessary  for  suc- 
cess in  music  as  well  as  in  anything  else.  A  few  years 
ago  a  different  opinion  prevailed;  it  was  thought  that 
the  music  student  did  not  need  thorough  intellectual 
training,  classical  culture,  either  because  he  was  a 
genius,  or  else  because  his  work  was  entirely  tech- 
nique. But  this  is  all  a  mistake. 

Knowledge  is  power  to  the  musician  just  as  it  is  to 
everyone  else.  To  make  a  first-class  musician  there 
is  need  of  a  high  order  of  knowledge,  not  simply  of 
his  narrow  specialty,  but  of  all  the  subjects  that  be- 
long to  a  well  balanced  education.  What  comes  from 
the  consciousness  of  knowing  things  thoroughly?  A 
calm,  collected  mind,  a  steady  nerve,  a  firm  hand,  an 
easy  pose,  a  graceful  manner.  Knowledge  expands 
and  strengthens  the  mental  faculties,  controls  the 
feelings,  guides  the  will,  and  brings  the  entire  life  into 
harmony  with  its  surroundings.  You  need  something 
more  than  knowledge  of  notes  and  of  musical  terms. 
There  are  other  worlds  than  that  in  which  you  have 
your  special  calling.  Broad  fields  containing  rich 
treasures  lie  all  about  you  and  invite  your  investiga- 
tion. Be  taught  by  paintings  and  sculptures,  build- 
ings and  landscapes,  flowers  and  poems,  mountains 
and  rivers,  minerals  and  animals,  clouds  and  stars, 


104  HABIT. 

men  and  nations— the  thousand  interesting  things 
that  make  up  the  environment  of  your  daily  life — 
and  you  will  be  a  better  and  happier  musician  for  the 
knowledge  you  thus  gain. 

How  is  it  possible  to  interpret  the  thought  of  the 
great  masters,  contained  in  their  compositions? 
Only  by  getting  into  the  same  standpoint  from  which 
they  looked  out,  and  listened  to  the  sounds  from  the 
world  of  harmony.  Beethoven  thought  that  three 
things  were  true  of  his  symphonies:  "First,  that  they 
are  the  product  of  his  mental  activity — the  result  of 
the  organization  of  his  whole  experience;  secondly, 
that  his  mental  activity  involves  all  the  principles 
which  are  common  to  men  and  which  enable  one  to 
explain  his  mental  activity  to  another;  thirdly,  that 
his  symphonies  epitomize  his  knowledge  of  the  think- 
ing, feeling,  and  willing  mind  as  known  to  him  in  self- 
consciousness."  The  works  of  Beethoven  are  the 
stored-up  results  of  all  the  individual  heart-beats,  all 
the  individual  acts  of  memory,  all  the  glorious  pangs 
of  feeling,  all  the  efforts  of  will  which  passed  through 
his  conscious  experience  in  the  course  of  life.  All  this 
means  that  to  understand  and  appreciate  Beetho- 
ven's music  and  then  to  interpret  it  to  others,  one 
must  be  in  sympathy  with  the  experiences  of  his  life — 
must,  so  to  speak,  live  his  life  over  after  him.  But 
how  can  one  do  this?  Only  by  sympathetic  study  of 
the  things  which  he  experienced,  the  things  which 
made  up  his  life,  the  things  about  which  he  was  think- 
ing, the  things  that  he  loved.  Hence  musical  biogra- 
phy is  a  study  of  great  practical  value  to  the  music 
student. 

Our  musical  appreciation  is  the  index  of  our 
knowledge  of  the  processes  involved  in  the  develop- 


KNOWLEDGE  AND  INTERPRETATION.  105 

ment  of  musical  art.  To  appreciate  fully  a  fine  piece 
of  music  we  must  know  how  that  piece  grew  in  the 
mind  of  the  composer.  How  do  we  come  to  an  ap- 
preciation and  a  right  interpretation  of  a  fine  poem? 
What  is  it  to  understand  literature  and  to  perform 
the  office  of  literary  interpreter?  Not  simply  to  know 
the  meaning  of  the  words,  to  be  able  to  construe  the 
phrases,  clauses  and  sentences,  to  explain  the  figures 
of  speech— it  is  all  this,  and  much  more.  An  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  author's  personal  history  is 
necessary.  There  is  no  surer  way  to  get  at  the  secret 
moulding  principle  in  a  great  literary  production 
than  through  loving  sympathy  with  the  author.  It 
is  so  also  in  the  study  of  musical  compositions. 

Music,  perhaps  more  than  any  other  subject,  re- 
quires a  high  order  of  intellectual  and  aesthetic  ma- 
turity in  order  to  judge  aright  of  its  merits.  A  mu- 
sical composition  is,  even  to  a  greater  extent  than  in 
the  case  of  a  poem,  the  embodiment  of  the  composer's 
personality.  "The  ease  and  gracefulness  of  Mozart's 
music  reflects  the  predominant  mood  of  the  man;  the 
passionate  intensity  of  Beethoven  makes  his  music 
without  a  rival  in  this  respect;  the  lofty,  but  unregu- 
lated genius  of  Wagner's  music  is  a  thorough  reflex 
of  the  ambitious  and  persevering  opera-writer,  stage 
manager,  and  master  of  orchestration;  the  lovely 
tone-forms,  the  beautiful  picture-music  of  Schumann 
reveal  the  poetic,  dreamy  character  of  the  founder  of 
the  modern  romantic  school  of  music."  Our  appre- 
ciation of  Beethoven's  symphonies  is  intellectual  as 
well  as  formal;  the  very  character  and  life  of  the  author 
are  woven  into  their  luminous  texture  and  constitute 
the  background  for  their  beautiful  figures.  But  such 
an  intelligent  appreciation  and  such  a  highly  cul- 


106  HABIT. 

tivated  judgment  imply  extensive  general  knowledge 
and  numerous  points  of  contact  with  the  author's 
experience. 

I  cannot  forbear  reproducing  here  what  another 
has  so  pointedly  written.  Good  music  implies  the 
training  of  the  mind.  Only  they  can  appreciate  the 
classics  who  have  something  that  is  classic  within 
them.  Some  players  choose  true  music  with  pure 
thought  in  it,  and  do  their  best  to  play  it  well  after 
the  manner  called  for  by  the  composer.  Their  aim  is 
to  give  truthful  expression  to  the  music  of  a  good 
writer.  Other  players  select  music,  which  is  of  a 
showy  character,  'with  much  brilliancy  and  little 
thought  in  it.  Their  aim  is  not  to  show  what  good 
music  is  but  show  themselves.  We  must  know  the 
best,  —  that  is  what  music-culture  means, — and  we 
must  work  for  the  best,  for  the  truthful  music,  not 
the  brilliant  and  vain.  When  we  seek  only  the  vain 
kind,  we  display  poor  taste.  It  is  in  music  as  in 
dress,— the  flashy  and  showy  is  always  indicative  of 
an  uncultivated  taste.  As  we  become  better  ac- 
quainted with  true  music  we  find  it  more  and  more 
interesting,  and  it  keeps  saying  new  things  to  us. 
We  go  to  it  again  and  agnin,  and  we  always  get  new 
meanings.  As  our  intelligence  grows  and  our  taste 
improves,  the  truly  classic  music  yields  new  beauties. 
It  is  like  the  light  in  a  beautifully  cut  gem,  it  seems 
that  we  never  see  all  it  is— it  is  never  twice  the  same; 
always  a  new  radiance  comes  from  it.* 

Enlarge  the  Field  of  Ideas.  The  musician  has  need  of 
broad  and  accurate  knowledge  so  as  to  make  just 
discriminations.  He  would  not  play  Bach  and  Beet- 
hoven in  one  and  the  same  color,  nor  would  he  inter- 
*  Tapper,  -'Musical  Talks,"  etc. 


VALUE  OF  MUSICAL  HISTORY.  toy 

pret  Schumann  as  he  would  Mendelssohn.  Technique 
is  necessary,  but  technique  is  only  the  beginning.  A 
reliable  technique  is  entirely  under  the  control  of  the 
mind,  and  should  have  for  a  foundation  a  scholarly 
education,  both  musical  and  general.  The  study  of 
musical  history  is  earnestly  recommended.  No  stu- 
dent can  neglect  this  without  serious  loss.  The  pres- 
ent can  be  understood  only  in  the  light  of  the  past. 
It  has  been  said  that  "history  is  a  great  painter,  with 
the  world  for  canvas  and  life  for  a  figure.  A  culti- 
vated reader  of  history  is  domesticated  in  all  families: 
he  dines  with  Pericles  and  sups  with  Titian." 

The  great  musical  works  that  we  possess  are  a 
heritage  from  many  years  and  from  distant  lands. 
"From  the  days  when  men  first  undertook  to  give 
order  and  system  to  the  scale  tones;  from  the  days  of 
the  monochord,  of  the  Humae,  of  the  two-line  staff, 
the  art  of  music  has  been  stepping  forward,  slowly  at 
first,  as  a  child,  then  faster,  as  strength  was  gained, 
until  at  length  it  hastens  so  that  we  marvel  at  its 
development.  ...  In  the  history  of  music  from  the 
days  of  Luther  to  our  own  time,  we  see  the  history  of 
mankind.  .  .  No  one  can  fully  grasp  the  significance  of 
compositions  by  great  writers  who  does  not  compre- 
hend their  place  in  history,  for  the  reason  that  the  in- 
dividuality which  composers  put  into  their  music  is 
formed  by  sorroundings  which  can  be  discovered  only 
in  the  pages  of  history.  The  era,  the  relationships, 
the  surroundings  of  a  writer  must  inevitably  enter 
into  what  he  produces,  and,  accordingly,  to  judge  the 
writer  well  and  understandingly.  one  must  know  the 
man  in  all  his  life-phases. 

Close  and  careful  study  is  necessary.  Read  the  best 
books  and  magazines,  study  the  literature  of  your 


108  HABIT. 

special  subject,  read  the  best  poetry,  read  general 
history  as  well  as  musical  history,  give  attention  to 
various  other  branches  of  knowledge,  such  as  acous- 
tics, physiology,  psychology,  botany,  aesthetics,  criti- 
cism, etc.,  etc. 

But  you  say  you  have  not  time  for  all  this.  Im- 
prove the  unoccupied  minutes  and  there  will  be  time 
enough  to  fill  the  mind  with  extensive  and  useful 
knowledge.  The  great  thing  is  to  get  your  mind  to 
work  and  to  keep  it  constantly  at  work.  Only  culti- 
vate once  a  studious  habit  and  a  taste  for  literary 
pursuits  and  then  all  objections  as  to  lack  of  time, 
opportunity,  library  facilities,  etc.,  will  vanish.  Where 
there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way.  A  little  system  and 
much  perseverance  will  do  wonders. 

Fourthly,  Practice  Constant  Repetition.  An  old  Latin 
proverb  says,  "Repetition  is  the  mother  of  study." 
If  this  be  true  of  literary  studies,  it  is  doubly  true  of 
musical  studies.  To  keep  bright  what  we  have  pol- 
ished, to  retain  what  we  have  acquired,  to  deepen  and 
keep  smooth  the  pathways  marked  out,  we  must  con- 
stantly repeat  our  former  exercises.  Whenever  men- 
tal acts  are  often  repeated,  their  corresponding 
brain-cells  are  thereby  made  stable  and  vigorous  by 
the  same  law  that  gives  strength  to  our  muscles  by 
proper  exercise.  An  arm  carried  in  a  sling  becomes 
weak,  a  muscle  unused  soon  grows  flabby;  so  also 
the  brain-cells.  If,  out  of  a  hundred  ideas,  the  thirty- 
fifth,  e.  g.,  has  been  repeated  more  frequently  than 
the  rest,  the  brain  process  corresponding  to  that 
particular  idea  is  most  likely  to  gain  recognition  in 
consciousness.  We  can  picture  to  ourselves  a  contin- 
uous struggle  going  on  among  our  mental  images,— 
the  weaker  ones  must  give  way;  the  vigorous,  well 


PRINCIPLE  OF  REPETITION.  IOQ 

grounded  images  survive.  It  is  a  difficult  task  to 
learn  a  foreign  language  so  as  to  speak  it  fluently, 
but  constant  repetition  fixes  word  after  word,  sound 
after  sound,  so  firmly  in  the  mind,  that  we  can  recall 
thousands  of  words  and  sounds  with  the  greatest 
ease  and  with  little  danger  of  forgetting.  Because  of 
the  natural  law  that  everything  tends  to  grow  weak 
by  disuse,  muscle  and  mind  alike,  we  should  so  regu- 
late our  mental  life  that  we  are  compelled  to  make 
constant  use  of  the  facts  already  gained. 

To  this  end  a  wide-awake  literary  club  among  mu- 
sic students  is  a  good  thing;  it  gives  an  occasion  to 
make  use  of  the  results  of  reading  or  study  on  some 
special  subject,  it  stimulates  the  members  to  a  whole- 
some rivalry,  and  it  calls  the  mental  faculties  into 
exercise.  A  very  entertaining  and  instructive  pro- 
gramme can  be  carried  out  at  each  meeting,  giving 
both  pleasure  and  profit  to  all  who  take  part.  Con- 
versation is  a  profitable  exercise.  If  we  talk  over, 
with  some  sympathetic  friend,  what  we  have  read,  we 
thereby  refresh  our  knowledge  and  impress  it  on  our 
own  minds  more  deeply,  for  the  conversational  way 
of  putting  things  demands  that  we  first  have  clear- 
cut  and  sharp  images  of  the  things  we  would  com- 
municate, and  then,  in  the  act  of  communicating,  we 
gain  the  additional  advantage  of  repeating  these 
images,  thereby  fixing  them  more  firmly. 

We  say,  practice  makes  perfect,  and  all  this  rests 
on  the  principle  of  repetition.  By  a  wise  economy  of 
our  nature  the  effects  of  previous  efforts  are  not  lost 
but  conserved  as  disposition  in  the  nerve  substance; 
repetition  of  the  act  strengthens  this  disposition  till 
by  and  by  we  do  automatically  what  at  first  required 
the  closest  attention. 


Fifthly,  Continuous  Training.  This  matter  of  overcom- 
ing evil  habits  and  forming  right  habits  implies  a 
desperate  struggle,  the  most  heroic  and  persistent 
effort.  More  than  simply  will  is  necessary:  with  the 
determined  will  must  go  the  steady,  uninterrupted 
training  process.  Habits  that  have  long  been  prac- 
ticed may  have  gained  such  strength  as  to  set  at  de- 
fiance any  power  of  the  will  that  can  be  brought  to 
bear  upon  them.  We  have  for  illustration  the  ex- 
perience of  the  drunkard. 

"There  is  a  wrong  philosophy,"  says  Beecher,  "in 
supposing  that  a  habit  which  has  fixed  itself  in  the 
fleshy  nature  can  be  overcome  by  the  mere  exertion 
of  the  will.  It  is  not  enough  to  resolve  against  it. 
You  cannot  vanquish  it  by  the  power  of  a  resolution. 
To  that  must  be  added  continuous  training."  Form- 
ing right  habits  means  training.  The  faculties,  nerves, 
muscles  of  the  child  need  to  be  trained.  Education 
means  training— leading  out— continuous  leading  out, 
of  the  stream  of  mental  and  nervous  energy  over  the 
same  pathways  until  habits  of  acting  right  are  firmly 
fixed,  and  then  the  stream  will  continue  to  flow  on 
in  the  same  channel  of  its  own  accord. 

Says  Archbishop  Whately :  *  'Whatever  a  man  may 
inwardly  think  and  say,  you  cannot  fully  depend  upon 
his  conduct  till  you  know  how  he  has  been  accustom- 
ed to  act.  For  continued  action  is  like  a  continued 
stream  of  water,  which  wears  for  itself  a  channel  that 
it  will  not  be  easily  turned  from."  Training  is  the 
stream  that  wears  deep  its  channel  from  which  it  is 
not  easily  turned  aside.  Hence  the  wisdom  of 
Solomon's  utterance,  "Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he 
should  go:  and  when  he  is  old,  he  will  not  depart 
from  it."  This  pedagogical  maxim  has  stood  the 


CONTINUITY  OF  TRAINING. 


test  for  ages  and  it  is  still  the  summing  up  of  the  best 
experience  and  the  soundest  philosophy  of  education. 
Solomon  did  not  mention  in  so  many  words  any- 
thing about  the  "psychologic  foundations  of  edu- 
cation,"* but  that  is  precisely  what  he  was  think- 
ing about,  for  the  law  of  habit  is  the  psychologic 
foundation  on  which  his  maxim  rests.  As  long  as 
mind  is  mind  and  nature  is  nature,  so  long  will  this 
maxim  point  the  true  theory  of  education. 

Join  this  utterance  of  the  wise  man  with  that  of  an- 
other very  wise  man  who  looked  deep  into  the  nature 
of  the  soul  and  who  founded  his  theory  of  soul-cul- 
ture upon  ultimate  facts  of  experience,  and  you  have 
a  complete  view  of  the  best  educational  system  the 
world  has  ever  known— "I  see  another  law  in  my 
members  warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind  .  . . 
The  good  that  I  would  I  do  not;  but  the  evil  that  I 
would  not,  that  I  do  ...  To  will  is  present  with  me, 
but  how  to  perform  that  which  is  good  I  know  not" 
(Rom.  7:  15—21).  Here  is  brought  out  the  nature 
and  present  condition  of  the  soul,  and  its  consequent 
predisposition  to  evil  habits;  hence  the  necessity  of 
just  such  a  method  of  soul-culture  as  Solomon  sug- 
gests, the  key-word  of  which  is  "train  up." 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  Define  habit. 

2.  Psychological  idea  of  habit. 

3.  Explain  "pathway  of  discharge." 

4.  On  what  property  of  nerve-substance  does  this  depend? 
Explain. 


*Harris,  "Psychologic  Foundations  of  Education," 


j  j  2  tiABii. 

5.  What  is  said  of  molecular  disposition? 

6.  Give  substance  of  Prof.  Wundt's  remark. 
•   7.    What  is  meant  by  nerve-disposition? 

8.  What  is  meant  by  "habitude"? 

9.  Point  out  its  practical  value  to  the  music  student. 

10.  How  is  skill  possible? 

11.  Illustrate  the  principle  by  facts  from  physical  nature. 

12.  Explain  ground  for  the  personality  of  musical  instruments. 

13.  Give  Rousseau's  remark  about  education. 

14.  What  further  is  said  on  the  same  subject? 

15.  Explain  "Habit  is  ten  times  nature." 

16.  What  reference  to  Rip  Van  Winkle? 

17.  First  reason  why  evil  habits  should  be  avoided? 

18.  What  is  said  of  native  reactive  tendencies? 

19.  What  is  said  of  the  Kindergarten  and  manual  training 
methods? 

20.  Second  reason  for  avoiding  bad  habits? 

21.  How  is  habit  the  "flywheel  of  society"? 

22.  Why  is  it  hard  to  correct  evil  habits? 

23.  Give  example  of  the  Grecian  flute-teacher,  and  what  may 
we  learn  from  it? 

24.  Show  importance  of  "the  first  time"  in  doing  things. 

25.  Wherein  is  the  first  music  lesson  a  crisis  in  the  pupil's  life? 

26.  Importance  of  attending  to  little  mistakes? 

27.  State  Prof.  Bain's  two  educational  principles. 

28.  Quote  testimony  of  the  music  pupil. 

29.  What  is  said  about  instruction  and  education  in  music? 

30.  What  is  said  about  the  teacher's  manner? 

31.  Incident  about  Liszt  and  Beethoven,  and  what   does  it 
illustrate? 

32.  Value  of  love  in  the  teacher's  art? 

33.  First  suggestion  for  forming  right  habits? 

34.  State  second  suggestion. 

35.  Quote  remarks  about  concentration. 

36.  How  many  hours  should  one  practice?    Explain  the  prin- 
ciple. 

37.  Bodily  conditions  necessary  to  a  strong  nerve-current? 

38.  Method  for  curing  stage-fright,  and  on  what  does  it  rest? 

39.  What  is  said  of  undivided  attention? 

40.  What  is  said  about  hard  work?    Quote  sayings  of  several 
authors. 


QUESTIONS.  113 

41.  What  need  of  will-power? 

42.  Quote  Arnold  and  Buxton  on  the  value  of  energy. 

43.  Give  third  suggestion  for  forming  right  habits. 

44.  Explain  psychological  ground  of  the  rule. 

45.  Show  need  of  thought  to  guide  the  hands. 

46.  Need  of  thought  in  the  common  practice  exercises? 

47.  Consequences  of  thoughtlessness? 

48.  What  about  the  false  and  the  right  conception  of  artists? 

49.  What  about  methods  of  teaching  and  learning  music? 

50.  Should  a  pupil  first  take  his  new  piece  to  the  piano  to  try 
it  over?    Why? 

51.  Why  bring  broad  intelligence  into  the  music  work? 

52.  How  shall  this  be  done? 

53.  Show  need  of  high  intelligence  for  interpreting  musical  con- 
ceptions. 

54.  What  is  said  of  classic  music? 

55.  How  may  the  music  pupil  enlarge  his  field  of  ideas? 

56.  Fourth  suggestion  for  forming  right  habits? 

57.  On  what  principle  does  this  rule  rest? 

58.  State  fifth  suggestion. 

59.  Why  is  training  so  important  in  education? 


114  ASSOCIATION. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Association. 

THE  workings  of  thought  often  seem  mysterious. 
Ideas  come  into  our  minds  apparently  without 
cause  and  without  connection.  For  days  and 
weeks  perhaps  I  have  been  trying  to  recall  some 
name,  but  all  in  vain.  One  day  as  I  am  walking 
along  the  street,  my  thought  wandering  miles  and 
miles  away  from  the  object  in  quest,  all  at  once  the 
forgotten  name  comes  into  my  mind  as  indifferently 
as  if  I  had  never  tried  to  recall  it,  suggested,  it  may 
be,  by  the  fruit- vender's  call,  or  the  teamster's  com- 
mands to  his  horses,  or  some  article  in  the  show- 
window.  I  know  not  how  the  name  has  come  back 
into  my  consciousness,  what  has  happened  among 
the  brain-cells,  or  what  has  disengaged  the  name-con- 
cept from  other  concepts  below  the  threshold  among 
which  it  was  entangled— I  know  simply  that  the  name 
has  come  back  to  me  under  such  and  such  circum- 
stances. The  mind  works  under  strange  conditions, 
indeed,  and  to  the  psychologist  these  strange  opera- 
tions are  as  interesting  as  they  are  strange.  Who  can 
count,  or  account  for,  the  silly  fancies,  the  grotesque 
suppositions,  the  irrelevant  reflections,  the  strange 
thoughts,  etc.,  that  come  and  go  in  the  stream  of 
consciousness  during  the  course  of  a  single  day? 
They  seem  to  be  entirely  disconnected;  apparently 
there  is  no  causal  bond  between  them;  but  the  fact  is 


SEQUENCE  OF  IDEAS.  115 

that  they  are  not  causeless  effects;  there  is  a  link  of 
connection  between  them  all. 

Sequence  of  Ideas.  In  the  chapter  on  concept-mass 
we  learned  that  no  concepts  stand  alone.  Every 
idea  that  is  in  the  mind  or  ever  comes  into  conscious- 
ness is  connected  with  other  ideas.  So  in  the  stream 
of  concepts  that  make  up  consciousness  at  any  mo- 
ment, there  is  a  logical  sequence,  a  definite  order,  in 
which  the  concepts  come  and  go.  This  order  is  deter- 
mined by  association.  However  disconnected  and 
fantastic  the  ideas  which  float  through  our  minds 
may  be,  they  come  and  go  by  virtue  of  a  law  as 
definite  as  that  which  controls  the  flow  and  ebb  of 
the  tides,  regulates  the  seasons  or  holds  the  planets 
in  their  courses— it  is  the  Law  of  Association. 

Mr.  Halleck  tells  us  that  he  was  once  surprised,  in 
a  distant  city,  to  find  a  picture  of  the  Yale  campus 
appear  in  his  mind.  He  was  thinking  of  a  subject 
which  had  no  conceivable  connection  with  that  cam- 
pus. The  mystery  was  solved  when  he  realized  that 
he  was  at  that  moment  hearing  a  certain  tune  whist- 
led, which  had  before  been  strongly  associated  with 
the  college  grounds.* 

Notice  in  the  following  example  how  one  idea  is 
associated  successively  with  another,  and  therefore 
how  one  brings  up  another.  I  sit  in  my  study— I 
hear  a  loud  rumbling  noise  in  the  street  below — it  is 
occasioned  by  some  heavy  vehicle — it  is  a  traction 
engine  previously  seen— a  picture  of  an  accident  I 
witnessed  years  ago  comes  into  mind — there  is  an- 
other engine  coming  round  a  sharp  corner— a  horse, 
frightened  by  the  sight  and  sound,  makes  a  sideward 
spring  and  overturns  the  carriage— picture  of  a  man 

*Halleck,  "Psychology  and  Psychic  Culture." 


Il6  ASSOCIATION. 

who  jostled  me  as  the  crowd  was  running  towards 
the  scene  of  the  mishap— he  looked  like  Jones— have 
not  seen  Jones  since  I  was  at  school— the  first  time  I 
saw  him  there  he  was  sitting  on  the  library  table, 
eating  sandwiches— I  always  said  there  was  no  use  in 
letting  those  books  remain  in  cloth  binding — that  re- 
minds me,  I  would  better  have  my  magazine  sets 
bound  before  they  cost  too  much— I  don't  like  to 
spare  those  articles  of  Brown's — I  shall  want  them 
for  that  essay  on  finger  training— by  the  way,  that 
clavier  has  just  arrived— the  express  man  Tom 
brought  it— Tom  has  a  stiff  hand,  the  result  of  a  rail- 
road accident — the  train  was  ditched  by  a  cow  belong- 
ing to  my  friend  Wilson— he  is  now  at  Leipzig— the 
old  "Gewandhaus"  has  been  demolished— those  cele- 
brated concerts,  conducted  by  Mendelssohn — a  plain 
marble  cross  in  Old  Trinity  Churchyard,  Berlin,  marks 
his  final  resting  place,  etc.  etc.  Seemingly  there  is  no 
connection  between  these  various  ideas,  and  no 
definite  order  in  which  they  come,  but  the  law  of  as- 
sociation explains  why  the  ideas  succeed  one  an- 
other in  just  this  order  and  no  other.  No  idea  ever 
appears  unless  there  is  a  definite  reason  for  it. 

In  the  case  of  dreams  our  ideas  are  apt  to  be  wild 
and  fantastic,  but  the  current  flows  on  obedient  to 
the  same  laws  as  those  that  control  our  waking 
thoughts.  The  ideas  that  make  up  the  dream  come 
in  their  particular  order  according  to  the  law  of  asso- 
ciation. If  a  person  gets  the  cover  off  his  feet  on  a 
cold  night,  he  may  dream  of  walking  barefoot  on  a 
glacier;  or  if  he  has  recently  been  reading  about  Nan- 
sen's  polar  expedition  or  about  Klondyke  ad  ventures, 
he  will  probably  dream  of  strange  experiences  in 
those  inclement  regions. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL  BASIS.  117 

Physiological  Basis  of  Association.  I  think  a  careful 
study  of  the  facts  of  experience  will  leave  little  room 
for  doubt  that  the  phenomena  of  association  rest  on 
a  physiological  basis.  This  appears  the  more  prob- 
able when  we  reflect  on  the  process  of  perceiving  out- 
ward objects.  How,  for  instance,  do  I  obtain  the 
percept  and  the  concept  of  an  apple?  With  the  eye  I 
gain  facts  concerning  its  size,  shape,  color;  with  the 
fingers  I  learn  that  it  is  rough  or  smooth,  hard  or  soft, 
also  that  it  is  large  or  small,  round,  flat,  oblong,  etc.; 
with  the  sense  of  taste  I  find  out  that  it  is  sour  or 
sweet,  or  has  any  specific  flavor;  with  the  sense  of 
smell  I  become  aware  of  its  characteristic  apple-odor, 
and  so  on.  From  these  various  sense-data,  how  do 
I  form  the  concept  of  the  apple?  The  object  that  has 
awakened  these  different  sensations  of  color,  shape, 
size,  taste,  smell,  etc.,  is  not  to  me  an  apple  until 
they  have  all  been  woven  together  into  one  mental 
picture  which  I  call  the  concept  of  the  apple.  The 
psychological  laboratory  reveals  the  fact  that  the 
several  senses  report  their  respective  items  of  infor- 
mation to  different  subordinate  centres  in  the  brain; 
the  eye  reports  to  one  part,  the  ear  to  another,  the 
taste  to  a  third,  and  so  on;  different  groups  of  cells 
have  been  in  action  and  have  received  corresponding 
contents  or  impressions,  like  so  many  separate  lake- 
lets into  which  flow  streams  from  different  sources. 
How  is  it  possible  for  these  different  sensations  to  be 
brought  together  into  one  idea,  the  concept  of  the 
apple?  By  association  of  sensations,  effected  by 
means  of  cells  and  groups  of  cells  that  communicate 
one  with  another  by  connective  fibres  of  the  brain. 
Here  we  find  the  physiological  basis  of  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas.  Though  this  can  be  accepted  only  as 


Il8  ASSOCIATION. 

a  theory  it  nevertheless  affords  a  plausible  expla- 
nation of  the  phenomena  in  the  case. 

Laws  of  Association.  Several  distinct  laws  of  associa- 
tion have  been  observed,  according  to  which  ideas 
naturally  group  themselves  and  which  determine  the 
order  of  their  reproduction.  These  laws  have  been 
differently  stated  and  classified.  In  general  they  have 
been  classified  as  primary  and  secondary.  By  a  pri- 
mary law  of  association  is  meant  a  general,  universal 
rule  which  all  ideas  obey  in  coming  into  conscious- 
ness; by  a  secondary  law  we  mean  some  particular 
reason  why  one  of  many  associated  ideas  recurs  to 
consciousness  rather  than  the  rest. 

Primary  Lams  of  Association.  There  is  really  only  one 
sharply  defined  primary  law  of  association,  and  that 
is  the  law  of  contiguity.  Contiguity  means  the  state 
of  being  contiguous,  that  is,  in  actual  contact,  touch- 
ing, adjoining,  neighboring,  adjacent.  Contiguous 
ideas  are  those  which  are  adjacent  in  the  samegroup, 
those  which  came  originally  into  consciousness  at 
the  same  time  or  at  different  times  under  like  circum- 
stances, as  parts  of  the  same  mental  picture  and 
apperceived  in  the  same  state  of  concept-mass.  Ideas 
grouped  together  in  this  way  have  a  tendency  to  re- 
call or  suggest  each  other,  so  that  when  one  for  any 
reason  is  called  up  the  rest  of  the  group  will  likewise 
come,  just  as  when  I  take  hold  of  one  link  of  a  chain 
and  raise  it  up,  other  links  will  also  rise. 

In  applying  and  explaining  the  law  of  contiguity  it 
is  not  necessary  that  objects  must  be  actually  contig- 
uous in  space  and  time.  The  objects  thus  associated 
may  be  thousands  of  miles  apart  and  may  be  sepa- 
rated by  a  stretch  of  many  years;  it  is  necessary  only 
that  the  mind  perceives  the  ideas  together,  side  by 


LAW  OF  CONTIGUITY.  1 19 

side  in  the  same  group.  If,  for  example,  when  reading 
history,  I  have  at  any  time  grouped  in  my  thought 
the  names  of  Hannibal,  Alexander,  Caesar,  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  Wellington,  Washington,  Grant,  etc.,  as 
those  of  the  world's  great  generals;  or  Beethoven, 
Mozart,  Mendelssohn,  Handel,  Bach,  Schumann, 
Chopin,  etc.,  as  musicians;  or  Shakespeare,  Milton, 
Dryden,  Pope,  Shelley,  Burns,  Tennyson,  Longfellow, 
etc.,  as  distinguished  poets — whenever  after  wards  any 
one  of  these  names  comes  into  mind  the  other  asso- 
ciated names  will  follow,  though  the  persons  they  rep- 
resent lived  in  distant  portions  of  the  earth  and  at 
widely  separated  periods  of  time.  The  principle  of 
contiguity  is  just  as  applicable  as  if  all  the  persons 
named  were  present  in  one  place  and  at  one  and  the 
same  time.  It  is  enough  that  their  names  have  been 
brought  together  in  the  same  mental  group  and 
there  stand  side  by  side. 

Contiguity  includes  facts  both  of  coexistence  and 
of  succession.  When  ideas  are  in  the  mind  at  the 
same  time,  e.  g.,  some  particular  house  and  its  im- 
mediate surroundings,  a  person  and  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  a  musical  chord  and  a  particular  piano  forte, 
the  ruins  of  a  castle  and  the  clambering  ivy,  the  har- 
bor of  Naples  and  a  glowing  sunset,  the  amorous 
bower  and  the  moonlight  serenade,  the  snow  and  the 
sleighing  party,  etc.,  they  are  said  to  coexist.  When 
ideas  follow  each  other,  like  the  members  of  a  series, 
the  chapters  of  a  book,  the  letters  of  the  alphabet, 
the  words  of  a  sentence,  the  lines  and  stanzas  of  a 
poem,  the  seasons  of  the  year,  the  days  of  the  week, 
the  events  of  a  life  time,  etc.,  they  are  ideas  in  suc- 
cession. 

In  learning  the  alphabet,  a  is  associated  with  b,  b 


120  ASSOCIATION. 

with  c,  c  with  d,  etc.  Therefore,  in  repeating  the  let- 
ters we  say,  a,  b,  c,  d,  and  not  a,  zn,  h,  x,  because  this 
is  the  order  in  which  the  concepts  of  the  letters  on 
first  coming  into  the  mind  were  successively  asso- 
ciated. 

Suppose  I  undertake  to  memorize  Gray's  Elegy  in 
a  Country  Churchyard.— "The  curfew  tolls  the  knell 
o£  parting  day"— In  memorizing  the  lines  I  learn  the 
successive  words  in  just  this  order  and  no  other,  that 
is,  the  concepts  are  associated  in  my  mind  in  this 
particular  way;  hence,  in  reproducing  the  lines  I  start 
with  the  first  word  and  then  the  following  words 
come  in  the  order  of  their  association.  Were  it  not 
for  this  law,  other  words  foreign  to  the  poem  might 
come  in  at  any  point;  the  mind  might  turn  aside  and 
think  of  parts  of  other  poems,  and  so  instead  of 
following  the  lines  word  for  word  in  the  right  order  it 
would  make  a  conglomeration  of  various  disconnect- 
ed words  and  phrases.  Thus,  "The  curfew  tolls," 
"My  country,  'tis  of  thee,"  "Once  upon  a  midnight 
dreary,"  "Strike,  till  the  last  armed  foe,"  "All  blessings 
flow,"  etc. 

That  the  phenomena  of  contiguity  have  a  cerebral 
explanation  is  very  probable.  Whenever  any  brain 
cells  have  once  acted  together  in  any  process  of  per- 
ception, the  subsequent  stimulation  of  any  one  in  the 
given  group  will  tend  to  set  the  others  into  a  motion 
similar  to  that  which  they  had  previously  experi- 
enced. "When  two  elementary  brain-processes  have 
been  active  together  or  in  immediate  succession,  one 
of  them,  on  re-occurring,  tends  to  propagate  its  ex- 
citement into  the  other"  (James). 

Secondary  Laws  of  Association.  According  to  the 
general  or  primary  law  just  now  stated,  all  associ- 


SUMMATION  OF  STIMULI.  121 

ated  ideas  should  be  reproduced  when  any  one  of  the 
series  is  made  to  return  to  consciousness.  If  brain 
cells,  sensations,  and  concepts  are  associated  as  has 
been  explained,  we  might  suppose  that  our  whole 
past  experience  would  be  constantly  streaming  in 
endless  succession  through  our  consciousness,  since 
at  any  moment  some  brain  processes  are  sure  to  act 
in  conjunction  with  others  that  have  acted  before  in 
a  similar  way.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  we  know  that 
such  is  not  the  case.  To  answer  this  question  we 
must  unfold  our  subject  farther,  and  bring  under 
consideration  certain  specific  principles  which  are 
called  the  secondary  laws  of  association.  Here  we 
inquire  why  some  particular  concept  among  many 
associated  concepts  on  a  given  occasion  comes  into 
consciousness  in  preference  to  others,  and  why  not 
all  in  regular  succession  return. 

The  solution  of  the  problem  depends  on  a  principle 
of  nervous  activity,  called  the  summation  of  stimuli. 
This  means  that  a  stimulus  which  by  itself  would  be 
insufficient  to  excite  a  nerve-centre  to  effective  dis- 
charge, may,  by  acting  with  one  or  more  other 
stimuli  equally  insufficient  by  themselves,  bring  about 
such  discharge.  The  balking  car-horse  may  serve  to 
illustrate  the  principle.  No  single  thing  is  able  to 
start  the  horse;  but  by  applying  a  number  of  ex- 
citing causes  his  balking  may  be  overcome.  For  ex- 
ample, the  driver  uses  his  voice  and  the  reins,  a  by- 
stander pulls  at  the  bridle  straps,  another  applies 
the  whip,  the  conductor  rings  the  car-bell,  the  pass- 
engers get  behind  the  car  and  shove  it  upon  the 
horse's  heels,  a  boy  precedes  with  some  tempting  ears 
of  corn  or  bunch  of  grass,  the  lady  passengers  try  to 
scare  the  horse  with  their  parasols,  etc.,  etc.,  when 


122  ASSOCIATION. 

all  of  these  incitements  are  applied  at  the  same  time 
the  obstinacy  of  the  animal  generally  yields,  and  he 
goes  on  his  way  rejoicing.  So  when  we  are  trying  to 
recall  a  lost  name,  we  think  of  as  many  "cues"  as 
possible,— we  repeat  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  then 
we  form  syllables  with  the  letters  in  alphabetical  or- 
der, we  think  of  other  names,  akin  to  the  one  in  quest, 
and  so  on,— and  the  method  generally  succeeds  on  the 
principle  of  summation  of  stimuli;  discharges  from 
associated  brain  cells  reenf orce  each  other,  and  by 
their  joint  effect  determine  whether  one  idea  or  an- 
other shall  be  awakened. 

The  father  of  a  dull  boy,  wishing  to  exhibit  to  some 
guests  the  boy's  progress  in  kindergarten  instruction, 
holds  his  penknife  upright  on  the  table,  and  says, 
"What  do  you  call  that,  my  boy?"  "A  knife,"  is  the 
persistent  answer.  Recollecting  that  in  the  kinder- 
garten exercises,  not  a  knife,  but  a  pencil,  was  used, 
the  father  held  upright  his  pencil  and  repeated  his 
question,  whereupon  the  desired  answer  promptly 
came,  "1  call  that  vertical!"  The  example  strikingly 
illustrates  the  working  of  the  boy's  mind.  He  had 
often  seen  a  knife,  but  not  in  connection  with  the  idea 
of  a  vertical  line,  and  therefore  the  sight  of  the  knife 
alone  did  not  awaken  the  concept  vertical;  when, 
however,  the  pencil  WSLS  substituted,  which  before  had 
acted  with  other  things  in  producing  a  particular 
group  of  impressions,  immediately  it  served  to  bring 
up  its  associated  concept  of  a  vertical  line. 

In  the  phenomena  of  association  we  have  both 
total  recall  and  partial  recall.  According  to  the  law 
of  contiguity,  our  ideas  should  return  to  the  mind 
with  unvarying  regularity,  just  as  the  notes  in  the 
tune  of  the  organ-grinder.  But  our  minds  do  not 


PRINCIPLE  OF  INTEREST.  123 

work  in  such  a  mechanical  way,  our  ideas  do  not  al- 
ways come  and  go  just  like  the  notes  of  the  music 
box.  In  partial  recall  some  constituent  concepts  of 
the  original  group  are  passed  over,  while  others  re- 
appear; not  all  our  past  experiences  are  equally  oper- 
ative in  determining  what  particular  ideas  shall  ap- 
pear in  the  awakening  series.  Not  all  are  equally 
prominent:  there  is  always  some  one  that  stands  out 
above  the  rest  and,  so  to  speak,  dominates  the  repro- 
ductive process.  That  item  is  always  the  one  that 
appeals  most  powerfully  to  our  interest.  The  follow- 
ing illustration,  adapted  from  Prof.  James,  shows 
this  principle  of  interest.  Looking  at  my  clock  (1879), 
I  found  myself  thinking  of  Mr.  Bayard's  resolution 
in  the  Senate  about  our  legal  tender  notes;  the  clock 
called  up  an  image  of  the  man  who  repaired  its  gong 
— he  suggested  the  jeweler's  shop  where  I  last  saw 
him— the  shop  recalled  some  shirt-studs  which  I 
bought  there — the  studs,  the  value  of  the  gold  and 
its  recent  decline — the  gold,  the  equal  value  of  green- 
backs— these  brought  up  the  question  of  how  long 
they  were  to  last— and  so,  finally,  the  Senate  Bill. 
Each  of  these  images  hi  the  associated  series,  offered 
various  points  of  interest.  The  gong  at  the  moment 
referred  to  was  the  most  interesting  part  of  theclock, 
because,  having  begun  with  a  beautiful  tone,  it  had 
become  discordant  and  aroused  a  sense  of  disappoint- 
ment (hence,  the  need  of  the  repairer's  services). 
This  explains  why  I  thought  of  the  gong  and  then  of 
the  succeeding  members  of  the  series,  rather  than  of 
the  friend  who  presented  the  clock  to  me,  or  one  of 
the  many  other  circumstances  connected  with  it.  So 
then  to  explain  the  phenomenon  of  preference  in  the 


124  ASSOCIATION. 

matter  of  partial  recall  we  must  resort  to  the  princi- 
ple of  interest,  to  which  we  shall  refer  again. 

Several  forms  of  the  secondary  laws  of  association 
are  to  be  noted. 

1.  The  Law  of  Correlation.  Otherwise  stated,  this 
means  likeness.  If  there  are  fifteen  ideas  associated 
by  contiguity,  and  if  there  is  likeness  between  the 
third  and  seventh,  these  will  be  most  apt,  other  things 
equal,  to  come  into  the  mind  together.  Where  there 
is  any  thought-relation  between  ideas,  they  are  apt 
to  suggest  one  another.  The  study  of  etymology  af- 
fords many  examples  of  such  thought-relation,  the 
great  majority  of  words  being  founded  on  physical 
imagery  insomuch  that  one  has  called  our  dictionary 
a 'collection  of  faded  metaphors.'  Our  word  tribu- 
lation (from  tribulum,  a  threshing  instrument) 
suggests  wheat  or  chaff,  and  vice  versa;  chastisement 
(from  castus,  white),  a  process  of  cleaning,  further 
associated  with  sno w  and  wool  ("Though  your  sins 
be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow;  though 
they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool"); 
succor  (from  sub  and  curro,  to  run  under),  the  idea 
of  one  person  putting  his  shoulder  under  the  burden 
which  another  is  bearing;  imbecile,  the  image  of  a 
tottering  form  resting  on  a  staff,  etc.  The  study  of 
etymology  carried  on  in  this  way,  namely,  by  corre- 
lating images  and  meanings,  not  only  makes  the  sub- 
ject intensely  interesting,  but  also  cultivates  the  habit 
of  associating  concepts  according  to  their  inner 
thought-relations. 

It  will  help  one  to  remember  the  position  of  the 
several  letters  on  the  staff  by  associating  the  staff 
with  the  human  hand,  thus: 


CORRELATED  IDEAS. 


125 


(A-lwaya 
•Mr 


LINES{D-o 

B-oys 
(G-ood 


SPACES 


G-ained 
E-asy 
C-ases 
A-ll 


The  letters  in  the  spaces  from  the  bottom  upwards 
spell  FACE. 

The  student  should  train  himself  to  unite  concepts 
in  his  mind  by  the  natural  relations  of  things.  One 
of  the  great  beauties  of  a  trained  mind  is  that  its 
concept-mass  is  made  up  of  rationally  correlated 
ideas  and  consequently  it  recalls  things  preferably  in 
their  thought-relations,  and  is  not  enslaved  by  the 
accidents  of  time  and  place.  Prof.  Halleck  calls  at- 
tention to  the  fact  that  an  ignorant  person  on  the 
witness  stand  will  insist  on  telling  everything,  just  as 
it  passed  through  his  experience,  no  matter  whether 
it  bears  on  the  case  or  not.  His  mind  is  a  slave  to 
the  facts  of  contiguity,  and  so  machine-like  he  repeats 
everything,  ofttimes  very  much  to  his  attorney's  dis- 
comfort. If,  between  two  given  events,  something 
else  with  no  bearing  on  the  case  happened,  he  must 
narrate  the  incidental  facts  also  in  order  to  keep  on 
the  track  of  his  story.  For  example,  his  associated 
series  of  concepts  might  run  thus:  Bought  a  barrel  of 


I26  ASSOCIATION. 

flour  on  trust  at  a  red  grocery — one  of  his  children 
was  teething— he  stepped  across  the  street  to  the  drug 
store  to  get  a  bottle  of  paregoric— the  clerk  was  a 
young  fellow  with  a  black  moustache— he  resembled 
that  farmer  boy,  who  bought  the  gray  nag  at  the 
public  sale,  where  he  met  cousin  John— by  the  way 
his  children  have  the  whooping  cough,  and  he  called 
Dr.  R— he  passed  in  front  of  his  office  on  the  way  to 
the  red  grocery,  etc.  Having  never  trained  his  mind 
to  think  logically,  i.  e.,  according  to  the  necessary 
thought-relations  of  things,  he  must  relate  all  the 
events  of  the  series  in  the  order  in  which  they  occurred, 
for  he  has  no  other  way  of  getting  from  the  one  im- 
portant event  to  the  other.  If  you  break  the  chain 
for  him,  as  in  the  act  of  cross-questioning,  you  are 
likely  to  confuse  him  and  render  him  helpless  so  that 
he  cannot  proceed  at  all.  He  stands  puzzled,  like  a 
man  hi  the  middle  of  a  stream  where  an  accustomed 
stepping  stone  has  been  removed. 

The  following  example  from  Mrs.  Kadcliffe's  "The 
Komance  of  the  Forest"  (quoted  by  Halleck),  illus- 
trates the  point  admirably.  Peter,  one  of  the  char- 
acters, rushes  into  the  room,  with  important  news, 
which  his  master  is  eager  to  hear:— 

•'0,  sir.  I've  heard  something  that  has  astonished  me,  as  well  it 
may,"  cried  Peter,  "and  so  it  will  you,  when  you  come  to  know  it. 
As  I  was  standing  in  the  blacksmith's  shop,  while  the  smith  was 
driving  a  nail  into  the  horse's  shoe;  by  the  by,  the  horse  lost  it  in 
an  odd  way.  I'll  tell  you,  sir,  how  it  was." 

"Nay,  prithee,  leave  it  till  another  time,  and  go  on  with  your 
story." 

"Why,  then,  sir,  as  I  was  standing  in  the  blacksmith's  shop, 
comes  in  a  man  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  larg-e  pouch  of 
tobacco  in  his  hand." 

"Well— what  has  the  pipe  to  do  with  the  story?" 


LOGICAL  ASSOCIATION.  127 

"Nay,  sir,  you  put  me  out;  I  can't  go  on,  unless  you  let  me  tell 
it  in  my  own  way.  As  I  was  saying— with  a  pipe,  etc." 

Practical  life  furnishes  many  similar  illustrations. 
If  a  student  has  memorized  a  piece  of  music  mechan- 
ically, i.  e.,  without  giving  any  thought  to  the  notes, 
phrases  and  periods,  he  is  likely  to  be  entirely  thrown 
off,  if,  in  the  public  rendition,  he  accidentally  omits  a 
single  note.  So,  in  reciting  a  declamation,  which  has 
been  mechanically  committed  to  heart,  as  the  phrase 
goes.  Such  methods  of  memorizing  should  be  dis- 
couraged. 

We  thou/d  associate  things  logically,  that  is,  according 
to  their  inner  thought-relations,  and  not  simply  me- 
chanically, or,  still  worse,  accidentally.  If  a  child  for 
the  first  time  sees  a  horse  and  a  sheep  together,  the 
relation  being  purely  accidental,  the  next  time  he 
sees  one  of  these  animals,  he  is  apt  to  think  of  the 
other,  not  because  there  is  any  inner  connection  be- 
tween them,  but  because  he  happened  to  see  them  to- 
gether the  first  time.  Such  a  process  has  little  disci- 
plinary value  and  does  not  contribute  much  to  the 
child's  growth  in  intelligence.  The  scientific  educator 
knowing  this  principle  will  guard  his  pupils  against 
accidental  associations  in  the  exercises  of  the  school 
room.  All  their  concept-associations  should  be  based 
on  the  inner  and  true  relation  of  things.  Failing  in 
this,  the  business  of  instruction  becomes  more  diffi- 
cult, and  the  results  less  satisfactory.  We  all  know 
how  hard  it  is  to  memorize  and  recite,  for  example, 
the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  or  the  maxims  of  Poor 
Richard's  Almanac:  the  reason  is  that  the  reciter  sees 
no  connection  between  the  successive  verses  or  max- 
ims, and  so  must  depend  upon  pure  memory.  Not 
only  is  the  process  of  memorizing  made  much  easier 


128  ASSOCIATION. 

but  it  also  contributes  much  more  to  mental  growth 
if  the  things  learned  are  connected  by  a  true  thought- 
relation. 

Among  the  inner  relations  of  things,  may  be  men- 
tioned those  of  cause  and  effect,  instrument  and  use, 
means  and  end,  law  and  example,  container  and 
thing  contained,  symbol  and  thing  symbolized, 
genus  and  species,  etc.  Further  examples  of  corre- 
lates are  such  as,  the  wing  of  a  bird  and  the  atmos- 
phere, the  fin  of  a  fish  and  the  water,  oar  and  boat, 
organ  and  bellows,  piano  keys  and  the  fingers  on  the 
hand  of  the  player,  heart  and  blood,  lungs  and  air, 
eyes  and  light,  ears  and  sound,  house  and  occupant, 
book  and  reader,  the  ebb  and  flow  of  tides,  root  and 
trunk,  bird  and  nest,  trough  and  crest  of  waves,  the 
harp  and  the  harper,  lock  and  key,  life  and  organiza- 
tion, body  and  soul,  etc.  In  all  these  cases  the  rela- 
tion between  the  parts  is  not  accidental,  but  it  is  a 
relation  of  thought,  design,  adaptation. 

The  human  mind  is  naturally  curious;  it  delights  in 
tracing  the  connections  of  things;  the  search  for  causes 
is  native  to  it;  the  disco  very '  of  thought  relations  is 
an  exercise  entirely  congenial  to  the  inquiring  mind. 
Gaining  knowledge  in  the  nature  of  the  case  should 
not  be  a  tedious  and  painful  process,  and  we  can  say 
it  never  is  if  carried  on  in  the  right  way.  Gaining 
knowledge  is  interesting  and  stimulating  when  we 
can  discover  the  causes  of  the  things  we  see  and  hear. 
Hence  the  fascination  of  scientific  studies,  such  as  bot- 
any, zoology,  physiology,  geology,  physics,  astron- 
omy, etc.  Learning  bare  facts  in  a  mechanical  way 
is  apt  to  be  laborious  and  uninteresting,  and  the  facts 
when  learned  are  retained  with  difficulty.  A  better 
way  to  learn  facts  is  to  learn  them  in  connection  with 


WHYS  AND  WHEREFORES.  129 

their  causes  or  the  search  for  their  causes.  In  the 
study  of  harmony,  it  will  aid  the  pupil  in  learning  the 
facts  about  chords  if  his  attention  is  directed  to  the 
cause  why  certain  notes  make  consonance  and  others 
make  dissonance.  That  there  is  a  cause  for  these 
phenomena  the  intelligent  teacher  very  well  knows, 
and  if  he  can  succeed  in  starting  his  pupil  upon  a 
course  of  investigation  he  will  not  only  make  the  sub- 
ject of  harmony  interesting,  but  he  will  greatly  benefit 
the  pupil  in  the  way  of  mental  development.  It  will 
help  us  to  interpret  a  piece  of  classic  music  if  we  can 
find  out  why  in  one  part  there  are  written  major 
chords  and  in  another  minor;  why  in  one  place, 
crescendo  and  in  another  decrescendo;  allegro  now 
and  andante  then;  forte  here  and  pianissimo  there. 
It  is  not  enough  to  learn,  by  stuffing  the  memory, 
that  such  and  such  marks  are  found  in  particular 
places,  but  it  is  more  interesting  and  more  important 
to  know  why  these  marks  are  there  and  why  they 
stand  in  one  place  rather  than  in  another. 

Can  the  pupil  know  these  things,  and  is  it  lawful  for 
him  to  inquire  into  such  matters?  Time  was  when 
such  inquiries  would  have  been  considered  entirely  un- 
necessary, perhaps,  impertinent;  but  we  are  living  in 
an  age  of  investigation,  which  is  true  of  music  as  well 
as  of  everything  else.  To  carry  a  load  of  facts  by  me- 
chanical association  is  like  carrying  supplies  of  food 
"in  a  bundle  strapped  upon  the  back;"  while  carry- 
ing the  same  facts  by  rational  association  is  like  car- 
rying the  food  "eaten,  digested,  and  wrought  over  in- 
to the  bones  and  muscles  and  nerves  which  hold  the 
body  firm  and  solid  and  ready  for  .use."  Learning  the 
causes  of  things  awakens  in  the  pupil  a  sense  of 

Ptvcholoov-  9 


130  ASSOCIATION. 

power  and  of  satisfaction,  a  realization  that  he  is 
doing  something  and  is  making  real  progress  in  his 
music  studies.  The  feeling  has  a  reactive  influence, 
for  the  greater  the  feeling  of  power  and  the  keener  the 
sense  of  pleasure  it  yields,  the  greater  is  the  amount 
of  attention  the  pupil  gives  to  his  work.  Is  it  possi- 
ble to  make  the  practicing  of  etudes  interesting  in  the 
way  above  suggested?  Let  the  wide-awake  teacher 
try  the  experiment  and  find  out  for  himself. 

For  these  three  reasons,  then,  we  should  strive  to 
associate  things  according  to  their  inner  thought-re- 
lations, viz.,  first,  because  of  the  pleasure  the  mind 
derives  from  the  exercise;  secondly,  because  of  the 
practical  results;  thirdly,  because  thereby  a  useful 
habit  is  cultivated. 

Hence,  the  importance  of  being  careful,  pains-tak- 
ing, wide-awake  students;  of  setting  facts  into  the 
mind  in  their  rational  order;  of  having  intelligent 
ideas  as  to  why  things,  which  we  find  in  our  music  les- 
sons, are  as  they  are,  and  not  simply  that  they  are 
thus  and  so.  Do  not  allow  either  yourself  or  your 
teachers  to  cram  your  mind  full  of  disconnected  facts, 
but  train  yourselves  into  the  habit  of  searching  for 
.an  intelligent  cause  of  the  things  you  learn;  bring 
new  concepts  into  your  growing  concept-mass  in 
their  right  relations  so  that  every  step  in  the  process 
of  your  technical  musical  training  may  be  a  step  at 
the  same  time  in  the  development  of  your  intellectual 
powers.  We  should  be  able,  not  only  religiously  but 
also  musically  to  "give  a  reason  for  the  hope  that  is 
in  us"— the  hope  of  success  in  our  calling.  It  is  a 
hopeful  sign  when  students  ask  intelligent  questions 
—not  idle  quibbles  for  the  sake  of  killing  time  or  for 


THE  STUDENT  "A  TRUTH-HUNTER."  131 

amusement,  but  earnest,  searching  questions  that 
help  them  forward  and  enlarge  their  field  of  ideas. 

Plato  defined  man  as  a  "truth-hunter".  That  is  a 
good  definition  of  a  student:  he  must  be  a  truth- 
hunter.  What  does  this  imply?  The  saying  of  Plato 
rests  on  the  figure  of  game-hunting.  Here  are  tracks 
on  the  snow,  on  the  sand,  in  the  mud — what  made 
them?  Whither  do  they  lead?  Whence  do  they  come, 
etc?  So  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge;  the  truth-hunter 
finds  tracks,  evidences,  intimations,  markings  of  all 
sorts — what  are  they?  why?  whence?  for  what  pur- 
pose? why  thus  and  here?  why  not  otherwise,  etc?  It 
is  a  good  practice  to  surround  the  subject  of  investi- 
gation with  a  thousand  questions.  One  question 
answered  is  a  thousand  new  ones  raised,  and  thus  the 
way  into  the  secrets  of  things  is  opened.  Socrates 
was  a  great  questioner;  it  was  thus  he  confounded 
and  overcame  his  enemies.  Our  Saviour  at  the  age 
of  twelve  was  found  in  the  temple  in  the  midst  of  the 
doctors  of  the  law  both  answering  and  asking  ques- 
tions. There  is  a  picture  of  the  model  student.  Music 
students  also  need  to  study,  to  inquire,  to  apply 
themselves,  to  be  zealous  truth-hunters.  Study  many 
things;  not  merely  notes.  The  more  general  knowl- 
edge you  possess,  the  more  power  you  will  have  in 
the  pursuit  of  your  special  calling;  the  more  meaning 
you  will  see  in  the  composition  you  are  playing,  the 
more  beauty  and  meaning  you  will  be  able  to  bring 
out  of  it;  the  higher  will  be  your  rank  as  a  musician. 

2.  The  Law  of  Repetition.  This  rests  on  the  same 
fundamental  fact  as  the  law  of  habit.  If  two  or  more 
ideas  are  often  repeated  in  conjunction  the  repetition 
will  make  a  firm  bond  of  association,  and  the  more 
frequent  the  repetition  the  stronger  will  be  the  result- 


l32  ASSOCIATION. 

ing  bond,  and  the  more  certain  is  the  awakening  of 
the  rest  of  the  series  upon  recurrence  of  any  one 
member.  "The  closest  associations,  such  as  those 
between  vocal  actions  and  the  resulting  sound,  words 
and  the  things  named,  the  movements  of  expression 
and  the  feelings  expressed,  are  the  result  of  innumer- 
able conjunctions  (repetitions  of  acts)  extending 
throughout  life."* 

The  more  frequently  we  have  seen  a  play,  or  heard 
an  oratorio,  or  read  a  poem,  or  written  out  a  certain 
sentence,  the  easier  will  it  become  for  the  mind  after- 
wards to  run  over  the  series  of  associated  things. 
The  effect  of  the  repetition  is  to  produce  a  powerful 
tendency  for  the  mind  to  pass  from  one  thing  to  the 
next  in  a  series  of  associated  impressions  or  concepts. 
In  this  way  is  produced  also  the  power  of  anticipa- 
tion. If  B  has  frequently  followed  A,  and  C,  B,  and 
so  on  to  the  end  of  the  series,  the  recurrence  of  B  is 
sure  not  only  to  be  immediately  followed  by  C,  but 
will  also  cause  the  mind  to  anticipate  succeeding 
members  of  the  series,  as  M,  N,  etc.,  so  that  the  mind 
is  able  to  look  onward  to  what  is  coming  as  well  as 
to  attend  to  what  is  passing.  When  a  pupil  is  learn- 
ing a  new  tune  he  fixes  in  his  mind,  one  by  one,  the 
successive  notes  as  he  hears  the  tune  sung  or  played, 
or  performs  the  act  himself.  By  often  going  over  the 
same  thing,  the  mind,  on  recurrence  of  the  first  notes, 
moves  on  easily  to  the  following  ones,  and  even  fore- 
casts what  ones  are  to  come  after.  Suppose  we  are 
listening  to  an  opera.  Here  are  several  concurrent 
series  of  ideas,— the  orchestral  accompaniment,  the 
singing  of  the  text  by  the  prima  donna,  the  actions 
of  the  supporting  players,  the  shifting  stage  scenery, 
*  Sully,  "Outlines  of  Psychology." 


RECENCY  AND  VIVIDNESS.  133 

etc.  The  more  frequently  we  have  witnessed  the  same 
performance,  the  more  readily  will  the  recurrence  of 
any  one  part,  e.  g.,  a  particular  strain  of  the  orches- 
tral accompaniment,  recall  other  associated  parts, 
e.  g.,  a  particular  turn  in  the  text,  a  brilliant  stage 
display,  or  a  striking  pose  by  some  actor.  The  effect 
of  it  all  is  to  bind  together  the  several  elements  into 
one  complete  whole. 

3.  The  Law  of  Interest.  This  means  that  a  stronger 
bond  of  association  is  formed  between  things  that 
appeal  powerfully  to  our  feelings  than  those  that  are 
indifferent.  Those  things  which  interest  us  most  are 
the  ones  most  firmly  linked  together  by  association 
and  the  ones  most  apt  to  return  to  consciousness. 
The  principle  of  interest  depends  on  several  circum- 
stances. Among  these  may  be  mentioned  that  of 
recency.  In  most  cases  we  are  more  interested  in  what 
has  recently  happened  than  in  events  which  belong 
to  the  distant  past.  To  be  sure,  recency  alone  does 
not  determine  the  matter  of  greatest  interest  and 
firmest  association.  Vividness  is  also  a  powerful  fac- 
tor. What  is  exceedingly  vivid  necessarily  makes  a 
deeper  impression  and  interests  us  more  than  what  is 
ordinary.  Halleck  mentions  the  example  of  a  person 
who  had  just  left  the  shelter  of  a  tree,  when  the  tree 
was  torn  into  pieces  by  lightning.  Afterwards  when- 
ever it  began  to  thunder  an  image  of  that  tree  came 
before  him.  Though  there  had  been  thousands  of 
other  objects  associated  in  his  experience  with  thun- 
derstorms, he  always  would  think  of  that  particular 
experience  because  of  its  great  vividness.  The  sigh- 
ing of  the  wind  among  the  pine  needles  always  calls 
up  to  the  author's  mind  his  first  view  of  Yosemite 
Valley  from  "Inspiration  Point,"  because  that  sound 


134  ASSOCIATION. 

was  vividly  associated  with  the  awful  panorama  un- 
folded to  view  from  that  particular  spot.  A  heavy 
nimbus  cloud  always  brings  into  my  mind  "Punch 
Bowl,"  an  extinct  volcanic  crater  in  the  rear  of  Hono- 
lulu, because  while  sitting  on  the  rim  of  the  crater  one 
day,  such  a  cloud  having  disengaged  itself  from  the 
great  cloud-mass  in  the  rear  and  having  unobserved- 
ly  drifted  around  and  in  front,  by  and  by  poured  itself 
out  in  a  copious  rain  shower  between  the  observer 
and  the  city  down  below.  It  was  such  a  surprise,  such 
a  novel'  occurrence  in  my  experience,  and  the  whole 
scene  was  so  vividly  impressed  that  the  place  men- 
tioned and  that  particular  form  of  cloud  are  perma- 
nently associated  in  my  thought.  The  chirping  of  the 
cricket  in  autumn  time  brings  to  mind  a  certain  open 
grave  in  an  out-of-the-way,  desolate,  neglected  bury- 
ing ground  in  the  corner  of  a  field.  That  was  the  first 
grave  I  had  seen.  My  childish  fancy  was  highly 
wrought  upon.  Seeing  the  grave  under  such  circum- 
stances and  hearing,  in  the  stillness  and  loneliness  of 
the  place,  the  solemn,  measured  chirp  of  the  cricket, 
the  scene  was  most  vividly  impressed  on  my  mind  and 
the  two  things  to  this  day  are  inseparably  associated. 
So  everyone  can  recall  similar  examples  in  his  own 
experience,  just  as  striking  and  perhaps  more  inter- 
esting than  any  that  have  been  mentioned.  "The 
experiences  of  childhood  often  throng  the  memory  of 
old  age,  because  they  were  so  vivid — they  deeply  af- 
fected the  plastic  brain  cells  and  left  there  an  unfail- 
ing impress." 

When  Joseph  Haydn,  a  boy  eight  years  old,  was 
studying  at  the  Hamburg  school,  George  Reutter 
Capellmeister  of  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Stephen's  in 
Vienna,  passed  that  way  in  search  of  boys'  voices  for 


INFLUENCE  OF  HEREDITY.  135 

his  choir.  He  examined  young  Joseph.  Placing  a 
canon  before  the  boy,  he  asked  him  to  sing  it  at  sight 
and  Haydn  obeyed  with  so  much  readiness  and  cor- 
rectness of  ear  and  tone  that  Reutter  was  delighted. 
While  Haydn  was  singing  Reutter  observed  that  the 
boy  cast  longing  glances  at  a  plate  of  cherries  on  the 
table,  and  throwing  a  handful  into  his  cap  he  said, 
"Well  done,  you  little  rascal!"  Haydn  used  to  say 
afterwards  that  he  never  saw  a  plate  of  cherries  with- 
out thinking  of  that  day  and  occasion,  which  proved 
so  important  in  his  career. 

We  see  how  strong  a  factor  personal  interest  is  in 
determining  the  current  of  association.  When  we 
understand  this  principle  thoroughly,  we  can  easily 
explain  many  strange  experiences  in  our  lives.  Those 
ideas  are  most  likely  to  return  to  consciousness  on  a 
given  occasion  which  have  previously  appealed  most 
powerfully  to  our  feelings;  hence,  if  any  one  of  the 
series  of  impressions  is  reawakened  the  other  associ- 
ated members  are  sure  to  reappear. 

The  facts  of  heredity  may  be  selected  farther  to 
illustrate  our  subject.  What  heredity  does  in  our 
mental  life  is  quite  similar  to  the  facts  of  association 
explained  on  the  basis  of  nervous  and  mental  predis- 
position. The  same  laws  seem  to  govern  both  classes 
of  phenomena;  we  may  infer,  therefore,  that  their 
causes  are  similar,  if  not  identical.  For  example,  "to 
the  son  of  a  drunkard,  a  glass  tumbler  or  bottle  is 
likely  to  suggest  saloons,  liquors,  drinking  carousals, 
etc.  The  son  who  has  inherited  a  preference  for  art 
will  think  or  dream  most  often  of  objects  connected 
with  art.  The  daughter  of  a  musician  is  likely  to 
have  the  greatest  facility  in  recalling  ideas  connected 
with  music." 


136  ASSOCIATION. 

Heredity  is  not  everything,  as  Mr.  Galton  in  his 
book  on  the  subject  claims,  but  it  is  a  great  factor  in 
determining  mental  bias  or  the  current  of  associa- 
tion. Bach's  father  and  brothers  were  musicians  and 
his  ancestors  for  generations  back  were  of  a  musical 
turn  of  mind.  Mozart's  father  was  a  professor  of 
music.  Weber's  father  was  a  man  of  musical  taste 
and  of  some  skill  in  the  same  direction.  No  little  part 
of  Mendelssohn's  peculiar  bent  and  all  the  merit  of 
his  earlier  musical  training  must  be  accredited  to  his 
highly  cultured  mother.  Raphael's  father  was  a 
painter  of  considerable  reputation  in  his  day.  John 
Wesley's  ancestors  for  four  generations  had  been 
scholarly  churchmen.  Yan  Dyck,  the  master  of  por- 
trait painters,  was  particularly  fortunate  in  his  par- 
entage, his  father  having  been  a  painter  on  glass  and 
his  mother  a  painter  of  landscapes,  from  whom  also 
he  received  his  earliest  art  instructions.  James 
Watt's  love  for  tools  and  his  mechanical  dexterity 
may  be  traced  to  his  father.  The  father  of  Palissy, 
the  noted  Huguenot  potter,  was  a  tile-maker  and  a 
worker  hi  clay.  Edmund  Burke's  father  was  an  at- 
torney of  prominence  in  Dublin.  And  so  we  could 
multiply  examples  indefinitely,  all  of  which  are  highly 
suggestive  in  the  line  of  our  remarks  on  heredity 
and  association.  We  say  heredity  and  association, 
because  if  the  facts  in  both  cases  could  be  traced  back 
to  their  primary  cause,  perhaps  we  should  find  that 
they  rest  on  the  same  basis.  If  we  were  to  go  outside 
of  human  psychology  and  enter  that  exceedingly  fas- 
cinating field  of  animal  psychology,  just  now  attract- 
ing so  much  attention,  we  should  find  many  very 
strong  confirmations  of  this  view. 

A  change  in  our  emotional  states  may  change  the 


VOLUNTARY  ATTENTION.  137 

direction  of  our  associations.  The  following  example, 
suggested  by  Halleck,  will  serve  to  illustrate.  An 
idea,  A,  is  often  followed  by  an  idea,  S,  one  day  and 
by  L  the  next  day.  I  pass  a  certain  farm  on  Monday, 
and  I  think  of  a  pear  tree  in  the  orchard,  while  on 
Tuesday,  passing  the  same  farm,  I  think  of  the  well 
behind  the  house.  Why  this  change  in  the  direction 
of  association?  On  Monday,  when  I  passed  the  farm 
I  was  hungry,  and  therefore,  the  picture  of  the  tempt- 
ing fruit,  which  I  had  previously  plucked  from  that 
particular  tree,  came  into  my  mind.  On  Tuesday,  I 
was  thirsty,  and  therefore,  the  well,  from  whose  cool 
depths  I  had  previously  slaked  my  thirst,  was  the 
first  to  come  into  my  thought.  If  we  carefully  note 
all  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  flow  of  our 
ideas  we  shall  have  little  difficulty  in  explaining  the 
peculiar  facts  of  association. 

4.  The  Law  of  Voluntary  Attention.  Attention  may 
also  be  mentioned  as  one  of  the  secondary  laws  of 
association.  If  the  attention  has  been  strongly  fixed 
by  an  act  of  will  on  some  particular  ideas  in  a  series, 
these  ideas  are  thereby  strengthened  and  will  have 
the  precedence  in  the  reproduction  of  the  series.  The 
greater  the  mental  effort  we  put  forth  in  centering 
the  attention  on  some  particular  thing,  the  greater 
is  the  probability,  other  things  equal,  that  the  con- 
cept of  that  thing  will  return  to  consciousness  in 
preference  to  others.  If  we  read  the  poetry  of  Shakes- 
peare, Milton,  or  Tennyson  in  a  listless  way,  that  is, 
without  giving  much  mental  energy  to  the  exercise, 
but  few  ideas  from  these  authors  will  find  a  perma- 
nent place  in  our  concept-mass,  and  they  will  have 
little  power  to  direct  the  stream  of  association  in  our 
literary  life.  If  we  play  the  compositions  of  Bach 


138  ASSOCIATION. 

and  Haydn  with  feeble  attention,  they  will  have 
little  influence  to  enrich  our  music  life  with  inspiring 
suggestions. 

The  Educational  Bearing  of  (Association. 

The  facts  and  laws  of  Association  have  important 
applications  to  education.  For  example,  the  prin- 
ciple of  interest  may  be  used  to  good  advantage  in 
dealing  with  the  various  subjects  of  instruction.  Some 
things  appeal  immediately  to  the  pupil's  interest, 
while  in  the  case  of  others,  interest  may  be  aroused 
by  associating  them  with  things  which  are  interesting 
in  themselves.  There  is  a  simple  law  which  controls 
the  association  of  natural  and  acquired  interests;  if 
the  teacher  understands  this  law  he  can  make  use  of 
it  in  causing  the  pupil  to  become  interested  in  subjects 
which  in  themselves  are  not  interesting  to  him.  Any 
object  not  interesting  in  itself  may  become  so  by  asso- 
ciating it  with  some  other  object  in  which  an  interest 
already  exists.  The  two  associated  objects  grow,  as 
it  were,  together;  the  interesting  portion  sheds  its 
quality  over  the  whole,  and  thus  things  not  interest- 
ing in  themselves  acquire  an  interest  which  becomes 
as  real  and  as  strong  as  that  of  any  natively  interest- 
ing thing. 

There  is  nothing  that  has  so  great  interest  in  itself 
to  a  man  as  his  own  personal  self  and  its  fortunes. 
Hence,  the  moment  a  thing  becomes  connected  with 
the  fortunes  of  one's  self  it  becomes  an  interesting 
thing  to  that  person,  however  indifferent  it  ma  y  have 
been  before.  This  is  a  pedagogical  principle  of  great 
value.  What  should  the  teacher  do  with  a  pupil  who 
has  no  interest  in  a  given  subject  which  he  is  trying 


EDUCATIONAL  ATMOSPHERE.  139 

to  teach  the  pupil?  Our  principle  suggests  that  he 
should  begin  with  things  in  the  line  of  the  pupil's 
native  interest,  and  then  gradually  bring  to  his  atten- 
tion other  things  that  have  some  immediate  connec- 
tion with  the  former.  Then,  step  by  step,  he  should 
connect  with  these  first  objects  and  experiences  the 
later  objects  and  ideas  which  he  wishes  to  instil  in 
the  pupil's  mind.  By  associating  the  new  with  the 
old,  the  natively  interesting  with  the  uninteresting, 
he  will  be  able  by  a  little  skill  to  surround  the  entire 
system  of  things  and  of  mental  experiences  with  an 
atmosphere  of  lively  interest. 

Then,  too,  there  is  suggested  immediately  the  im- 
portance of  the  atmosphere  into  which  the  life  of  the 
child  is  cast  and  in  which  the  educating  process  goes 
on.  The  environment  of  the  home  and  of  the  school- 
room claims  the  earnest  attention  of  the  educational 
philanthropist. 

In  the  home  and  in  the  school-room  are  formed  the 
associations  which  in  after  life  are  to  give  direction 
to  the  stream  of  ideas;  here  is  formed  the  web  of 
character  into  which  the  incidents  of  life  as  woof  are 
to  be  woven.  Plainly  enough  the  guardians  of  our 
homes  and  of  our  free  schools  have  no  moral  right 
to  neglect  the  aesthetic  condition  of  the  place  whence 
starts  the  stream  of  life.  It  should  be  made  attractive 
both  inside  and  outside.  The  most  beautiful  spot 
should  be  selected,  and  then  no  expense  or  pains 
should  be  spared  in  its  suitable  adornment.  Thecity 
school  house  should  not  be  crowded  in  among  other 
buildings,  but  it  should  occupy  a  sufficiently  large 
open  place,  beautified  with  lawn  and  shrubbery  and 
flowers  tastefully  arranged.  These  things  are  silent 
but  powerful  factors  in  the  education  of  childhood, 


140  ASSOCIATION. 

and  are  quite  as  important  as  books,  charts,  etc.  If 
the  stream  of  association  starts  out  from  beautiful, 
chaste,  and  elevating  objects  and  surroundings,  there 
is  less  danger  that  it  will  turn  aside  afterwards  into 
filthy  places.  If  an  inspiring  environment  is  impor- 
tant to  the  birth  and  early  life  of  a  poet,  it  has  simi- 
lar value  in  the  education  of  every  soul. 

"If  children  are  daily  surrounded  by  those  influen- 
ces that  elevate  them,  that  make  them  clean  and 
well  ordered,  that  make  them  love  flowers  and  pic- 
tures, and  proper  decorations,  they  at  last  reach 
that  degree  of  culture  where  nothing  else  will  please 
them.  When  they  grow  up  and  have  homes  of  their 
own,  they  must  have  them  clean,  neat,  bright  with 
pictures,  and  fringed  with  shade  trees  and  flowers, 
for  they  have  been  brought  up  to  be  happy  in  no 
other  environment."* 

The  mere  looks  of  a  schoolhouse  and  the  surround- 
ing playground  have  a  wonderful  influence  on  the 
mind  of  the  average  child.  Our  railroad  corporations 
build  beautiful  station  houses  and  set  them  in  beauti- 
ful garden  plots,  radiant  with  flowers  and  trees.  The 
rural  schoolhouse,  generally  speaking,  is  depressing 
and  degrading  in  its  character  and  influence.  There 
is  nothing  about  it  calculated  to  encourage  or  cul- 
tivate a  taste  for  the  beautiful  in  nature  or  in  art. 
Yet  this  is  the  place  and  such  the  surroundings  where 
the  stream  of  national  life  takes  its  start;  as  the 
fountain,  so  will  be  the  stream.** 

Much  is  said  in  our  day  about  the  sanitary  condi- 
tion of  school  buildings,  and  certainly  the  subject 

'Bulletin  No.  160,  Jan.,  1899,  Cornell  University. 
•'Compare  Article  "The  Schoolhouse  Beautiful"  in  the  Perry 
Magazine,  Jan.,  1900. 


INFLUENCE  OF  ART  IN  EDUCATION.  141 

deserves  all  the  attention  it  is  receiving  and  more, 
too;  but  it  is  quite  as  important  to  look  after  those 
conditions  that  will  secure  the  aesthetic,  moral,  and 
spiritual  health  of  the  children  during  the  period  of 
training.  It  makes  much  difference  what  kinds  of 
pictures  are  hung  upon  the  walls  of  our  homes  and 
school  rooms,  or  adorn  the  pages  of  our  school 
books;  what  kinds  of  ornaments  we  select  for  the 
jewelry  we  wear  upon  our  persons. 

No  one  who  understands  the  mighty  influence  of 
these  art-forms  in  the  way  of  shaping  taste  and 
directing  the  stream  of  association  can  doubt  for 
one  moment  their  value  as  educational  forces.  Fill 
the  mind  of  childhood  and  youth  with  beautiful  pic- 
tures, chaste  figures,  elevating  images,  and  you  gain 
in  these  an  initial  power  of  association  which  will  do 
much  in  carrying  forward  the  development  of  charac- 
ter in  a  safe  channel  and  making  the  experiences  of 
subsequent  life  rich  and  interesting.  One  has  said, 
"Let  me  write  the  songs  of  a  nation,  and  I  care  not 
who  makes  the  laws."  With  equal  propriety  and 
truth  we  may  say,  Let  me  paint  the  pictures  of  a  na- 
tion, and  the  laws  will  make  themselves.  So  the 
power  of  literature  consists  not  any  more  in  the  facts 
it  conveys  than  in  the  pictures  of  association  it  brings 
into  the  mind.  The  power  of  a  good  book,  apart 
from  the  valuable  information  it  imparts,  in  the  way 
of  filling  the  mind  with  pure  images  as  bonds  of  asso- 
ciation with  holy  things  and  things  helpful  in  right 
thinking  and  right  living,  is  greater  than  human 
arithmetic  can  estimate.  So  on  the  other  hand,  the 
vicious  and  depraving  images  and  suggestions  which 
a  bad  book  brings  into  the  mind  of  the  reader  are 


142  ASSOCIATION. 

among  the  most  deadly  forces  in  the  hands  of  the 
destroyer  of  souls. 

Therefore,  home  life  and  school  life  should  be  made 
interesting  and  helpful  to  youth.  Youthful  associa- 
tions abide  long  years  after  the  days  of  youth  have 
fled,  and  they  leave  their  stamp  upon  the  life  we  live, 
whether  we  will  it  so  or  not.  Early  life  should  be 
linked  with  that  which  is  elevating  and  noble;  with 
good  books,  chaste  pictures,  pure  images;  with  the 
inspiring  forms  of  nature, — with  mountains,  fields, 
brooks,  trees,  flowers,  stars,  the  waterfall,  the  ocean. 
As  Phillips  Brooks  so  beautifully  has  said,  "You 
must  feel  the  mountains  above  you  while  you  work 
upon  your  little  garden. "  Or  as  the  poet  has  said, 

"To  him,  who  in  the  love  of  nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language:  for  his  gayer  hours 
She  has  a  voice  of  gladness,  and  a  smile 
And  eloquence  of  beauty;  and  she  glides 
Into  his  darker  musings  with  a  mild 
And  healing  sympathy,  that  steals  away 
Their  sharpness  ere  he  is  aware." 

Relation  to  Music.  And  what  is  the  relation  of  all 
these  things  to  music  and  musical  education?  Vastly 
more  vital  than  we  realize.  It  is  a  serious  thing  what 
kind  of  musical  thought-associations  we  make.  If 
the  reading  of  literature  is  a  potent  influence  in  gen- 
eral education,  so  the  study  of  musical  compositions 
and  of  musical  literature  is  an  equally  powerful  factor 
in  musical  education.  In  both  cases  the  same  psy- 
chological principle  holds. 

What  power  is  there  in  music?  All  races  of  men 
from  remotest  antiquity  have  felt  the  power  of  music, 
and  have  acknowledged  the  same  by  giving  special 


POWER  OF  MUSIC.  143 

attention  to  it  in  their  social,  civil,  and  religious  in- 
stitutions. It  has  always  been  a  subject  of  wonder, 
and  its  marvelous  power  has  given  rise  to  many 
legends  and  fables.  Keference  has  already  been  made 
to  some  of  the  stories  of  ancient  mythology.  Early 
history  abounds  in  similar  wonders.  Terpander  re- 
stored a  rebellious  people  to  their  allegiance  through 
his  melodies.  Tyrtaeus  aroused  a  whole  army  to 
action  by  the  sound  of  his  flute.  The  legislators  of 
antiquity  made  use  of  music  as  a  method  and  means 
of  government.  Plato  said  that  no  change  can  be 
made  in  music  without  a  similar  change  being  made 
in  the  state,  and  that  tones  can  be  selected  capable 
of  arousing  malice,  insolence,  and  their  opposites. 
He  emphasizes  the  influence  of  the  proper  music  on 
the  formation  of  character,  and  proceeds  to  specify 
the  general  scales  in  which  music  should  be  written. 
The  high  Lydian  is  plaintive,  the  Ionian  and  Lydian 
are  soft  and  convivial,  the  Dorian  is  the  music  of 
courage,  and  the  Phrygian  of  temperance.  Aristotle 
agrees  in  general  but  considers  the  Phrygian  music 
as  exciting  and  orgiastic.  The  Lydian  is  a  tone  to 
a  tone  and  a  hall  higher  than  the  Phrygian,  and  the 
Dorian  is  a  tone  below  the  Phrygian.  The  Dorian  is 
a  medium,  easy  pitch,  neither  too  high  nor  too  low, 
and  expresses  a  manly  character  and  a  full  flow  of 
strength.  What  makes  this  difference  of  effect? 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  true  that  the  special  melody 
associated  with  each  scale  has  much  to  do  with  the 
case.  There  are  many  examples  to  show  this.  An- 
other fact  developed  in  the  psychological  laboratory 
comes  to  our  aid  in  explaining  the  phenomenon  un- 
der consideration.  Music  has  a  direct  influence  on 
the  will.  The  force  of  will  varies  according  to  what 


144  ASSOCIATION. 

we  hear,  as  well  as  what  we  feel  and  see.  The 
following  experiment  devised  by  Prof.  Scripture, 
shows  this:— "With  the  thumb-and-finger  grip  (ma- 
king use  of  the  Dynamometer)  the  greatest  pressure  I 
can  exert  during  silence  is  4  kilos.  When  some  one 
plays  the  giants'  motive  from  the  'Rheingold'  my 
grip  shows  4%  kilos.*  The  slumber  motive  from  the 
Walkiirie  reduces  the  power  to  3%  kilos."  This  is  an 
exceedingly  interesting  and  suggestive  experiment, 
and  may  give  us  a  clue  to  the  secret  about  the  power 
of  music.  It  appears  from  experiments  of  this  kind 
that  pitch  alone  has  much  to  do  with  the  effect  pro- 
duced by  different  scales.  The  strength  of  grip  varies 
with  the  pitch:  tones  of  a  moderate  pitch,  such  as  the 
Dorian  above  mentioned,  increase  the  power  of  the 
grip,  while  very  high  or  very  low  tones  weaken  it. 
One  thing,  I  think,  is  plain,  and  that  is  that  the  facts 
of  music  may  be  explained  on  scientific  ground  and 
that  such  explanation  is  to  be  sought  for  in  the 
field  of  psychology.  That  the  various  effects  of  music 
are  due  ultimately  to  associated  brain  impressions 
and  associated  thought-concepts  is  highly  probable. 
We  know  what  influence  martial  music  has  upon 
soldiers  on  the  battle  field.  The  Marseillaise  (pro- 
nounced mar'-sa'-yaz')  helped  to  achieve  the  French 
Kevolution.  So  "Ein'  Feste  Burg"  has  inspired 
courage  in  the  heart  of  many  a  soldier  of  the  Cross. 

Music  has  power  to  calm  base  passions,  and  bring 
noble  ones  into  play.  As  Pope  sings  in  his  "Ode  on 
St.  Cecilia's  Day": 

"Music  the  fiercest  grief  can  charm, 
And  fate's  severest  rage  disarm: 
Music  can  soften  pain  to  eas.e, 
•Scripture,  "The  New  Psychology,"  p.  221. 


BAGPIPE  INCIDENT.  145 

And  make  despair  and  madness  please: 
Our  joys  below  it  can  improve, 
And  antedate  the  bliss  above." 

Gibbon,  in  the  last  volume  of  his  "Decline  and  Fall 
of  the  Roman  Empire,"  observes  that  it  is  proved  by 
experiment  that  the  action  of  sound,  while  accelerat- 
ing the  circulation  of  the  blood,  affects  the  human 
frame  more  powerfully  than  eloquence  itself.  He  then 
cites  the  following  anecdote,  contained  in  an  account 
of  a  journey  through  England  and  Scotland. 

According  to  the  most  ancient  traditions,  the  bag- 
pipe has  always  been  the  favorite  instrument  of  the 
Scotch,  since  it  was  first  introduced  into  the  country 
at  a  very  remote  period,  by  the  Norwegians.  The 
larger  one  figures  in  their  battles,  funeral  processions, 
weddings,  and  on  other  great  occasions;  the  smaller 
sized  one  is  devoted  to  dancing  music.  Certain  mar- 
tial airs,  called  pibrocbs,  produce  the  same  effect  on 
the  natives  of  the  Highlands  as  the  sound  of  trum- 
pets does  on  their  chargers,  and  sometimes  even 
miracles  are  performed  almost  equal  to  those  attri- 
buted to  the  music  of  Greece. 

At  the  battle  of  Quebec,  in  1768,  while  the  British 
troops  were  retreating  in  disorder,  the  commander 
complained  to  a  staff  officer  of  Eraser's  regiment,  of 
the  bad  behavior  of  his  corps.  "Sir,"  replied  the  lat- 
ter with  some  warmth,  "you  made  a  great  mistake  in 
forbidding  the  bagpipes  to  be  played;  nothing  ani- 
mates the  Highlanders  to  such  a  degree,  at  the  hour 
of  battle;  even  now  they  might  be  useful."  "Let  them 
be  played  as  much  as  you  please,"  answered  the 
commander,  "if  that  can  recall  the  soldiers  to  their 
duty."  The  musicians  received  the  order  to  play  the 
favorite  martial  air  of  the  Highlanders;  as  soon  as 

Psychology.  10 


146  ASSOCIATION. 

the  latter  heard  the  familiar  tones,  they  paused  in 
their  flight  and  returned  with  alacrity  to  their  post. 
The  influence  of  music  on  the  physical  organization 
of  animals  and  of  man  is  very  well  known  and  writers 
on  the  subject  record  many  curious  examples.  Caba- 
nis  says:  "There  are  peculiar  combinations  of  sounds, 
and  even  of  single  tones,  that  affect  all  the  faculties 
of  sense;  these,  by  their  immediate  action  upon  the 
soul,  arouse  certain  sentiments  over  which  they  seem 
to  have  special  power,  in  accordance  with  the  primi- 
tive laws  of  organization."  Gretry  mentions  a  sur- 
prising effect  of  music  on  the  heart  and  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood.  "I  placed  three  fingers  of  the  right 
hand  on  the  artery  of  my  left  arm,  or  on  any  other 
artery  in  my  whole  body,  and  sang  to  myself  an  air, 
the  tempo  of  which  was  in  accordance  with  the  action 
of  my  pulse;  some  little  time  afterward,  I  sang  with 
great  ardor  an  air  in  a  different  tempo,  when  I  dis- 
tinctly felt  my  pulse  quickening  or  slackening  its  ac- 
tion to  accommodate  itself  by  degrees  to  the  tempo 
of  the  new  air."  Berlioz  relates  the  effects  produced 
on  him  by  hearing  music  of  which  he  was  particularly 
fond,  in  the  following  graphic  language:  "Nothing 
in  the  world  could  give  an  exact  idea  of  the  effect,  to 
any  one  who  has  never  experienced  it.  My  whole  be- 
ing seems  to  vibrate;  at  first  it  is  a  delightful  pleas- 
ure, in  which  reason  does  not  appear  to  participate 
at  all.  The  emotions  increasing  in  direct  ratio  with 
the  force  or  grandeur  of  the  composer's  ideas,  pro- 
duce, little  by  little,  a  strange  agitation  in  the  circu- 
lation of  the  blood;  my  pulses  beat  violently;  tears, 
which  usually  give  evidence  of  the  crisis  of  a  parox- 
ysm, indicate  only  a  progressive  stage,  and  greater 
excitement  and  agitation  is  to  follow.  When  the 


PHYSICAL  EFFECTS  OF  MUSIC.  147 

crisis  is  really  reached,  there  occur  spasmodic  con- 
tractions of  the  muscles,  a  trembling  in  all  the  limbs, 
a  total  numbness  of  the  feet  and  hands,  a  partial 
paralysis  of  the  nerves  of  vision  and  hearing:  I  no 
longer  can  see,  and  can  hardly  hear— vertigo — semi- 
consciousness.—"  The  celebrated  cant&trice  Mali- 
bran,  on  hearing  for  the  first  time  Beethoven's  sym- 
phony in  C  minor  at  the  Conservatory,  was  thrown 
into  such  convulsions  that  she  had  to  be  carried  from 
the  room. 

The  effects  of  music  on  man's  moral  and  intellectual 
nature  are  equally  great  and  even  more  marvelous. 
When  King  Saul  was  tormented  by  the  evil  spirit, 
David  touched  his  harp,  and  the  king  was  comforted 
and  became  calm  again,  for  the  evil  spirit  left  him. 

Dryden,  in  his  famous  ode,  ''Alexander's  Feast,"* 
beautifully  describes  the  power  of  music  on  the  emo- 
tions of  men.  The  proud  king  is  a  mere  plaything 
in  the  hands  of  the  skilful  musician,  who  with  his  lyre 
sways  the  changing  passions  at  his  will. 

"Timotheus,  placed  on  high 
Amid  the  tuneful  quire, 
With  flying  fingers  touched  the  lyre: 
The  trembling  notes  ascend  the  sky, 
And  heavenly  notes  inspire. 

*  * 

With  ravished  ears 

The  monarch  hears, 

Assumes  the  god, 

Affects  to  nod, 

And  seems  to  shake  the  spheres. 

*  * 

The  praise  of  Bacchus  then  the  sweet  musician  sung — 


*This  poem  was  set  to  music  by  Handel  in  1736. 


148  ASSOCIATION. 

Soothed  with  the  sound,  the  king  grew  vain; 

Fought  all  his  battles  o'er  again; 

And  thrice  he  routed  all  his  foes,  and  thrice  he  Blew  the  slain. 

The  master  saw  the  madness  rise, 

His  glowing  cheeks,  his  ardent  eyes; 

And  while  he  heaven  and  earth  defied, 

Changed  his  hand,  and  checked  his  pride. 

He  chose  a  mournful  muse, 

Soft  pity  to  infuse. 

Softly  sweet,  in  Lydian  measures, 
Soon  he  soothed  his  soul  to  pleasures. 

Now  strike  the  golden  lyre  again; 
A  louder  yet,  and  yet  a  louder  strain. 
Break  his  bands  of  sleep  asunder, 
And  rouse  him,  like  a  rattling  peal  of  thunder. 
Thus  long  ago, 

Ere  heaving  bellows  learned  to  blow, 

While  organs  yet  were  mute, 

Timotheus,  to  his  breathing  flute 
and  sounding  lyre, 

Could  swell  the  soul  to  rage,  or  kindle  soft  desire." 

Music  was  recommended  by  the  ancients  as  a  cura- 
tive agent,  and  not  without  cause.  There  are  nu- 
merous instances  of  diseases  both  of  body  and  mind 
treated,  and  relieved  by  skilfully  combined  sounds. 
Coelius  Aurelianus  mentions  a  flutist  who,  by  play- 
ing in  the  Phrygian  mode,  could  charm,  as  it  were, 
the  diseased  part,  causing  it  to  palpitate  and  trem- 
ble. Bonnet  says  he  has  known  several  persons  suf- 
fering from  gout  who  employed  music  as  a  means  of 
relief  for  acute  pain,  with  entire  success.  Sauvages 
mentions  the  case  of  a  young  man,  who  had  been  at- 
tacked with  intermittent  fever,  accompanied  by  vio- 
lent headache;  he  could  be  soothed  only  by  the  sound 
of  a  drum. 


CURATIVE  INFLUENCE  OF  MUSIC.  149 

Music  has  a  favorable  influence  on  digestion;  hence, 
the  ground  for  the  custom  BO  common  in  high  life 
of  having  music  performed  during  feasts.  Voltaire 
hardly  realized  the  full  meaning  of  his  witticism  to 
the  effect  that  our  purpose  in  going  to  the  opera  is 
to  promote  digestion.  Listening  to  good  music  is 
undoubtedly  the  best  mode  of  exercise  that  literary 
persons  necessarily  leading  a  sedentary  life  can  take. 
Milton,  the  poet,  philosopher,  and  musician,  spent  a 
certain  time  every  day  after  dinner  in  singing  or 
playing  on  some  kind  of  instrument.  Democritus  in- 
forms us  that  the  sound  of  the  flute  is  a  remedy 
against  the  plague.  Celsus,  speaking  af  the  insane, 
says,  "We  must  quiet  their  demoniacal  laughter  by 
reprimands  and  threats,  and  soothe  their  sadness  by 
harmony,  the  sound  of  cymbals  or  other  noisy  in- 
struments." It  is  said  that  the  Phrygian  mode,  full 
of  sweetness  and  vivacity,  is  admirably  adapted  to 
those  who  are  one  moment  overwhelmed  with  grief 
and  the  next  thrown  into  paroxysms  of  rage;  while 
the  martial  Dorian  mode  suits  those  who  are  given 
to  talking  and  behaving  in  a  silly  manner,  and  in- 
dulging in  bursts  of  meaningless  laughter. 

In  the  records  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris, 
the  case  is  mentioned  of  an  illustrious  musician  and 
composer  who  was  attacked  by  a  violent  fever,  ac- 
companied by  continuous  delirium.  The  third  day  of 
his  delirium  he  asked  if  he  might  hear  a  little  con- 
cert in  his  room.  Bernier's  cantata  was  sung.  As 
soon  as  he  heard  the  first  notes,  his  countenance  be- 
came calm,  his  eyes  assumed  a  quiet  expression,  and 
the  convulsions  ceased  entirely;  he  shed  tears  of  pleas- 
ure, and  the  fever  left  him  while  the  concert  lasted, 
but  as  soon  as  it  was  over  he  relapsed  into  his  for- 


150  ASSOCIATION. 

mer  condition.  After  ten  trials  of  the  same  treat- 
ment a  complete  cure  was  effected. 

Quarin  relates  an  instance  of  epilepsy  cured  by  mu- 
sic. "One  day  the  patient  having  been  listening  to 
music  when  she  felt  the  epileptic  fit  coming  on,  suffered 
only  the  symptoms.  Every  time  afterward  that  she 
felt  the  approach  of  the  paroxysm,  the  young  girl 
was  placed  so  that  she  could  hear  music;  and  nature, 
being  thwarted,  as  it  were,  in  its  perverted  tenden- 
cies, lost  finally  the  habit  of  convulsive  movements." 
A  similar  case  is  mentioned  by  Roger.  A  young  lady 
belonging  to  the  department  of  La  Drome  suffered 
from  a  nervous  disease  resembling  catalepsy.  The 
sound  of  the  violin  relieved  her  in  a  surprising  man- 
ner, and  if  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear  it  before 
the  paroxysm  was  upon  her,  she  was  saved  from  it 
entirely.* 

If  these  things  are  true,  what  do  they  mean?  Why 
is  music  such  a  powerful  agency?  The  secret  lies  deep 
down  in  the  silent  workings  of  the  brain-cells  and  of 
the  concepts  in  the  concept-mass.  The  explanation 
is  to  be  sought  in  the  inner  thought-relations  and 
the  associated  sense-impressions  awakened  by  the  in- 
coming sounds.  If  these  phenomena  rest  on  associa- 
tion, the  question  comes  back  with  intensified  empha- 
sis, What  kind  of  music  do  you  hear  and  learn? 
What  kind  of  thought  associations  does  your  musical 
experience  make?  With  what  are  you  linking  your 
life — with  the  stars,  or  with  the  trailing  serpent? 
What  thoughts  do  the  chords  you  hear  awaken? 

Surely,  association  is  a  serious  thing  in  our  life.  We 
are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made — bodily,  mentally, 

'For  numerous  other  examples  and  a  full  treatment  of  the  sub- 
ject, see  Chomet,  "The  Influence  of  Music  on  Health  and  Life." 


QUESTIONS.  151 

spiritually.  It  becomes  every  one  of  us  to  ask,  What 
manner  of  being  am  I?  What  possibilities  and  prob- 
abilities are  involved  in  my  composite  nature?  What 
is  my  relation  to  the  world  in  which  I  live  and  what 
the  relation  of  this  life  to  that  beyond  the  present? 
I  am  a  harp  of  ten  thousand  strings— what  are  the 
sounds  from  without  that  steal  in  through  my  senses 
and  awaken  in  my  soul  their  sympathetic  chords? 
Those  sounds  determine  in  what  direction  and  to 
what  goal  the  stream  of  my  life  shall  flow.  Those 
sounds  have  associated  with  them  the  ever  audible 
and  inspiring  whisper  of  new  and  budding  life,  or  else 
the  vacancy  and  despair  of  death.  How  vast  the 
importance  that  only  sounds  with  hallowed  associa- 
tions sweep  the  strings  of  this  mystic  soul-harp!  How 
solemn  the  chimes  that  peal  forth  the  changes  of 
human  existence  and  human  destiny! 

"Oh,  the  clanging  bells  of  Timel 
How  their  changes  rise  and  fall, 
But  in  undertones  sublime, 
Sounding  clearly  through  them  all, 
Is  a  voice  that  must  be  heard, 
As  our  moments  onward  flee, 
And  it  speaketh  aye  one  word, — 
Eternity!    Eternityl" 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  is  said  of  the  strange  workings  of  thought?    Give 
example. 

2.  What  is  meant  by  association? 

3.  Give  example  of  a  series  of  associated  ideas. 

4.  What  is  said  of  dreams?    Illustrate. 

5.  Explain  the  process  of  perceiving  an  apple. 

6.  Explain  the  physiological  basis  of  association. 


152  ASSOCIATION. 

7.  How  are  the  general  laws  of  association  classified? 

8.  State  and  explain  the  Law  of  Contiguity. 

9.  Distinguish  between  facts  of  coexistence  and  of  succession. 
Illustrate. 

10.  Give  example  about  memorizing  Gray's  Elegy,  and  what 
does  it  teach? 

11.  Give  cerebral  explanation  of  the  facts  of  Contiguity. 

12.  What  is  meant  by  summation  of  stimuli?    Give  example. 

13.  What  is  meant  by  total  recall  and  partial  recall? 

14.  Give  the  clock  example. 

15.  Explain  the  Law  of  Correlation. 

16.  Give  examples  from  etymology. 

17.  How  associate  the  key  signatures? 

18.  Why  should  concepts  be  associated  according  to  the  natural 
relation  of  things? 

19.  Give  example  from  Mrs.  Radcliffe.    What  does  it  show? 

20.  What  is  said  of  logical  association?    Illustrate. 

21.  Why  is  it  difficult  to  memorize  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon? 

22.  Name  varieties  of  inner  relations. 

23.  Give  examples  of  correlates. 

24.  What  is  said  about  the  search  for  causes? 

25.  What  of  causes  in  the  study  of  Harmony? 

26.  What  benefit  to  the  student  in  learning  causes? 

27.  What  is  a  student? 

28.  Explain  Plato's  definition  of  a  man. 

29.  Why  is  broad  general  knowledge  important    to    music 
students? 

30.  State  the  Law  of  Repetition.    Illustrate. 

31.  How  is  the  power  of  anticipation  produced?   Illustrate. 

32.  Explain  the  process  of  coupling  notes  in  a  piece  of  music. 

33.  State  the  Law  of  Interest. 

34.  Show  effect  of  vividness.    Give  examples. 

35.  What  is  said  of  heredity  in  connection  with  association? 
Give  examples. 

36.  How  may  a  change  of  emotional  state  change  the  direction 
of  association?   Illustrate. 

37.  State  the  Law  of  Voluntary  Attention. 

38.  Why  is  close  attention  necessary? 

39.  How  are  we  slaves  of  association? 

40.  How  is  the  principle  illustrated  in  the  case  of  fashions? 

41 .  Ho  w  may  the  principle  of  association  be  practically  applied? 


QUESTIONS.  153 

42.  What  is  said  of  the  home  and  school  room  environment? 

43.  Show  influence  of  pictures  as  educative  factors. 

44.  What  about  the  influence  of  literature? 

45.  Value  of  association  in  musical  education? 

46.  Examples  of  the  power  of  music? 

47.  Use  of  music  in  legislation. 

48.  Give  Plato's  saying  about  music. 

49.  Show  influence  of  pitch  on  the  power  of  grip. 

50.  Give  the  bagpipe  illustration,  and  what  does  it  show? 

51.  Give  examples  to  show  effect  of  music  on  the  bodily  organs? 

52.  Effects  of  music  on  man's  moral  and  intellectual  nature? 

53.  What  of  music  as  a  curative  agent?    Give  examples. 

54.  On  what  ground  are  these  effects  to  be  explained? 

55.  Why  is  association  a  serious  thing? 


j«j4  MEMORY. 


CHAPTER  Till. 
Memory. 

MEMORY  is  that  faculty  of  mind  by  which  we  re- 
tain the  knowledge  of  previous  thoughts,  im- 
pressions, or  events,  and  by  which  such  knowl- 
edge is  recalled  after  it  has  once  dropped  from  con- 
sciousness. An  act  of  memory  involves  several 
particulars.  There  is,  first  of  all,  the  fact  of  reten- 
tion. When  any  impression  has  once  been  made  in 
the  sensitive  nerve-center,  when  the  mind  has  once 
been  the  recipient  of  any  facts  from  without,  or  has 
had  experience  of  any  thought,  or  feeling,  or  volition, 
such  inward  experiences,  though  vanished  from  con- 
sciousness, are  not  obliterated— they  are  retained. 
No  fact  that  has  ever  come  into  the  mind,  no  concept 
that  has  ever  orginated  in  the  mind,  in  short,  not  a 
single  item  of  mental  experience  can  ever  be  annihi- 
lated, though  it  may  never  return  to  consciouness, 
any  more  than  the  mind  itself  can  be  annihilated. 
Once  in  mind  always  in  mind;  there  is,  therefore,  no 
art  of  forgetting,  however  poor  our  memory  may  be. 
A  second  presupposed  fact  is  that  of  recall,  or  re- 
production. Retention  alone  is  not  memory;  there 
must  be  a  recall  or  return  of  past  experiences,  of  van- 
ished percepts  and  concepts,  into  consciousness.  Re- 
tention may  be  called  the  passi  ve  side,  and  recall  the 
active  side,  of  memory.  Besides  these,  there  are  some 
other  general  facts  involved  in  an  act  of  memory. 
For  instance,  there  is  present  the  element  of  personal 


PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  MEMORY.  155 

recognition.  Not  simply  is  there  a  revival  of  some 
image  or  copy  of  an  original  experience,  but  the 
image  is  an  image  of  my  own  past  experience,  and 
not  that  of  another  person.  The  fact  recalled  must 
be  thought  of  as  my  past  experience.  Then,  too,  the 
image  must  return  just  as  it  was  experienced,  not 
modified  in  any  way  by  imagination,  neither  added 
to  nor  diminished;  and  it  must  stand  in  its  proper 
time  and  space  relations.  Such  are  the  general  facts 
involved  in  memory. 

Physiological  Basis  of  Memory.  What  was  said  in  the 
chapters  on  Habit  and  Association  should  be  here  re- 
called, for  the  facts  there  developed  constitute  the 
foundation  of  our  present  inquiry.  "The  machinery 
of  recall  is  the  same  as  the  machinery  of  association, 
and  the  machinery  of  association,  as  we  know,  is- 
nothing  but  the  elementary  law  of  habit  in  the  nerve- 
centers"  (James). 

Attention  has  been  called  to  the  property  oiplastic- 
ity  in  nervous  substance,  by  virtue  of  which  an  im- 
pression made  upon  a  nerve  or  nerve-center  leaves  in 
the  nerve  substance  a  permanent  effect  as  nervous 
disposition.  We  have  seen  also  that  this  property  of 
plasticity  lies  at  the  bottom  of  that  acquired  skill 
which  results  in  learning  things,  so  that  without  con- 
scious choice  or  effort  we  perform  such  acts  as  seeing, 
hearing,  talking,  walking,  singing,  piano-playing, 
writing,  etc.  The  principle,  which  underlies  and  con- 
ditions these  acts  and  makes  it  possible  to  advance 
in  any  art,  here  comes  into  view  as  that  on  which 
memory  depends. 

"The  physical  basis  of  memory,  as  retentive,  is  laid 
in  the  habit,  or  acquired  tendency,  of  the  elements  of 
the  nervous  system.  This  tendency  has  respect  both 


!tj6  MEMORY. 

to  the  individual  elements  and  to  the  association  of 
groups  of  these  elements.  Each  element,  speaking 
figuratively,  may  be  considered  as  a  minute  area  in- 
tersected by  an  indefinite  number  of  curves  of  differ- 
ent directions  and  order.  Thus  a  molecular  commo- 
tion in  any  such  area  may  run  out  into  the  system 
along  any  one  of  innumerable  curves."* 

Retenfiveness.  The  physiological  theory  of  memory 
assumes  that  memory  depends  upon  a  persistent 
disposition,  or  tendency  of  movement  created  in  the 
brain.  There  are  numerous  other  theories,  but  as  a 
physiological  basis,  the  one  just  stated  has  the  ad- 
vantage, and  we  hesitate  not  to  give  it  our  preference. 
This  of  course  does  not  mean  that  we  commit  our- 
selves to  that  materialistic  style  of  thought  which 
sees  in  memory  nothing  but  the  physical  property  of 
plasticity  in  the  brain  substance;  memory  ultimately 
is  a  faculty  of  the  soul  and  not  merely  a  property  of 
matter.  We  mean  that  memory  as  a  faculty  of  the 
soul  depends  upon  brain  disposition  as  a  means  of  its 
operation  hi  the  material  body.  By  virtue  of  the  in- 
timate connection  between  the  soul  and  the  body,  the 
soul  in  its  spiritual  activities  adapts  itself  to  bodily 
conditions.  It  is  these  bodily  conditions  that  experi- 
mental psychology  has  to  do  with.  What  the  activ- 
ities of  pure  spirit  are  in  themselves  is  a  problem  of 
metaphysics  and  does  not  belong  here.  What  the 
soul  is  in  itself  and  in  its  pure  modes  of  activity 
psychology,  at  least  in  its  present  stage,  cannot  de- 
termine. What  such  terms  as  "brain  disposition," 
"pathway  of  discharge, "etc.,  may  mean  in  respect  to 
the  essence  of  the  soul  we  do  not  know;  we  use  these 
terms  as  a  basis  for  the  explanation  of  psycho-physi- 

*  Ladd,  -'Outlines  of  Physiological  Psychology." 


NATIVE  DIFFERENCES  OF  MEMORY.  157 

cal  phenomena,  such  as  make  up  the  stream  of  con- 
sciousness and  properly  come  within  the  scope  of  our 
investigation. 

Memory  being  conditioned  on  brain-paths  and 
brain-disposition,  its  excellence  in  a  given  individual 
depends,  partly  on  the  number  and  partly  on  the  per- 
sistence of  these  paths.  The  persistence  of  the  paths 
is  a  physiological  property  of  brain  tissue,  while  their 
number  is  due  to  the  range  of  experience.  The  native 
degree  of  persistence  differs  very  greatly  in  different 
individuals  and  also  in  different  stages  and  conditions 
of  the  same  individual.  Some  men's  minds  are  like 
wax  which  yields  readily  to  the  seal  and  retains  in- 
definitely the  images  stamped  upon  it — no  impres- 
sions, however  disconnected  one  from  the  other,  are 
wiped  out,  but  retain  their  outline  sharp  and  distinct. 
Others  are  like  jelly,  which  vibrates  to  every  touch, 
but  retains  no  permanent  mark.  Minds  of  the  latter 
class  recall  their  past  experiences  with  great  difficulty, 
while  those  of  the  former  class  remember  names,  dates, 
figures,  anecdotes,  gossip,  poetry,  quotations,  notes, 
and  all  sorts  of  miscellaneous  facts  with  the  utmost 
ease. 

The  activity  of  memory  is  greatest  in  childhood, 
when  the  brain  substance  has  the  highest  degree  of 
plasticity.  This  is  also  the  period  when  the  great 
bulk  of  the  materials  for  subsequent  mental  develop- 
ment is  stored  away  in  the  memory  to  be  brought 
out  and  elaborated  into  a  connected  thought-system. 
In  the  first  three  to  five  years  the  child,  in  addition 
to  the  use  of  all  its  organs  and  faculties,  learns  to 
know  numberless  things,  together  with  their  various 
qualities,  and  to  arrange  them  into  groups  and  series. 
Jean  Paul  has  said,  "Man  learns  more  in  the  first 


158  MEMORY. 

three  years  of  childhood  than  in  the  three  years  of 
college  life."  We  might  say  that  a  child  learns  more 
in  the  first  ten  years  of  its  existence  than  in  all  the 
remaining  years  of  a  long  life-time.  Childhood  is  the 
period  when  the  mechanical  phase  of  memory  pre- 
dominates, when  everything  that  offers  itself  is 
accepted  without  asking  much  about  the  "how"  or 
the  "why."  The  activity  of  memory  reaches  its  max- 
imum at  about  the  age  of  twelve,  after  which  it  grad- 
ually declines.  "With  the  close  of  childhood,  in  the 
twelfth  year,  the  orbis  pictus  of  the  man's  world  of 
observation,  except  certain  additions  reserved  for  a 
later  age,  is  closed  and  laid  down  in  memory;  the 
grammar  and  vocabulary  of  the  mother  tongue  are 
learned,  the  child  is  at  home  in  its  environment.  Col- 
ors, tones,  names,  numbers,  persons,  things— all  are 
written  upon  the  tablets  of  the  memory."* 

Then  comes  the  period  of  equilibrium,  when  we  can 
do  no  more  than  hold  our  own.  In  the  age  of  man- 
hood memory  is  stationary.  The  gathering  time  is 
past,  the  period  for  the  free  application  in  indepen- 
dent judgments  and  conclusions  of  what  was  formerly 
gathered  is  at  hand.  In  middle  age  one  learns  a  new 
language  only  with  great  difficulty,  retains  names 
and  numbers  only  with  much  labor.  At  this  time  the 
old  memory-paths  fade  out  about  as  rapidly  as  new 
ones  are  made  in  the  brain.  The  decline  of  memory 
in  this  period  is  connected  with  the  decreasing  sensi- 
tiveness of  the  nervous  substance,  so  that  in  part 
the  long  past  impressions  of  childhood  even  now 
make  themselves  felt  with  greater  vividness  than  the 
newly  gained  perceptions  of  this  period. 

"In  old  age  the  activity  of  memory  shows  a  rapid 

*  Lindner,  "Empirical  Psychology." 


FACILITY  OF  RECALL. 


159 


decline.  The  old  is  forgotten,  the  new  is  not  retained. 
Only  the  most  important  events,  only  the  concepts 
most  frequently  in  consciousness  emerge  like  islands 
out  of  the  universal  flood  of  forgetfulness.  It  is  also 
true  that  the  very  aged  man  remembers  the  events  of 
his  childhood  more  vividly  than  those  which  lie  only 
a  year  or  two  behind  him"  (Lindner).  The  brain- 
paths  are  so  transient  that  "in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  of  conversation  the  same  question  is  asked 
and  its  answer  forgotten  a  half  dozen  times."  The 
plasticity  of  the  old  man's  brain  substance  is  nearly 
spent,  analogous  to  the  wood-fibre  of  a  dry  stick  of 
timber. 

Facility  of  Recall.    The  readiness  with  which  past  ex- 
periences are  recalled  depends,  other  things  equal, 
upon  the  number  of  paths  made  in  the  brain  by  a 
wide  range  of  experience  or  by  manifold  associations. 
This   idea   is  illustrated  by  the  following  figure, 
adapted  from  James: 

Let  D  be  some  past 
event  which  it  is  desired 
to  recall;  a,  b,  c,  d  .  .  o 
some  facts  associated 
with  it,  and  m  some  pres- 
ent thought  or  fact  which 
may  become  the  occasion 
or  cue  for  the  recall  of  n. 
LetA,B,C,D,M,N...O 
be  the  nerve-centers  cor- 
responding respectively 
to  a,  b,  c,  d,  777,  D  . . .  o  facts.  Then  A— N,  B— N,  C— N, 
D— N,  M— N,  0— N,  are  so  many  brain-paths  leading 
to  the  centre  N;  so  also  A— B— N,  A— B— C— N,  A— B 
— C— D— N,  etc.,  in  the  various  ways  of  grouping, 


l6o  MEMORY. 

according  as  any  given  present  fact  is  directly  con- 
nected with  the  event  to  be  recalled,  or  indirectly  as- 
sociated with  it. 

Now,  the  more  there  are  of  such  brain-paths  as 
A— N,  B— N,  etc.,  bearing  in  upon  the  center  N,  and 
the  greater  the  number  of  facts  associated  directly 
or  indirectly  with  the  fact  D,  which  is  to  be  revived, 
the  promter  and  surer  on  the  whole  will  be  the  recall 
of  D;  the  greater  the  number  of  things  by  which  one 
is  reminded  of  the  fact  to  be  recalled,  the  more  ave- 
nues of  approach  to  it  one  will  possess  and  the  greater 
facility  he  will  have  of  recalling  his  past  experiences. 

In  the  words  of  Prof.  James,  "The  more  other  facts 
a  given  fact  is  associated  with  in  the  mind,  the  bet- 
ter possession  of  it  our  memory  retains.  Each  of  its 
associates  becomes  a  hook  to  which  it  hangs,  a  means 
by  which  to  fish  it  up,  when  sunk  beneath  the  surface. 
Together  they  form  a  network  of  attachments  by 
which  it  is  woven  into  the  entire  tissue  of  our  thought. 
The  secret  of  a  good  memory  is  thus  the  secret  of 
forming  diverse  and  multiple  associations  with  every 
fact  we  care  to  retain.  But  this  forming  of  associa- 
tions with  a  fact,  what  is  it  but  thinking  about  the 
fact  as  much  as  possible?  Briefly,  then,  of  two  men 
with  the  same  outward  experiences  and  the  same 
amount  of  mere  native  tenacity,  the  one  who  thinks 
over  his  experiences  most,  and  weaves  them  into  sys- 
tematic relations  with  each  other,  will  be  the  one  with 
the  best  memory."* 

We  see  from  all  this  the  need  of  a  coherent  concept- 
system.  Facts  and  thoughts  should  stand  associated 
in  the  mind  according  to  their  inner  logical  relations, 
and  not  in  a  fantastic  manner.  Whether  we  have  a 


*  James,  "Psychology." 


EFFECTS  OF  PATHOLOGIC  CONDITIONS.  l6l 

good  memory  or  not  depends  very  much  upon  the 
manner  in  which  we  learn  the  things  we  wish  to  re- 
member, and  not  altogether  upon  native  endowment. 
The  facts  and  concepts  which  make  up  our  soul-life 
should,  therefore,  stand  in  a  logically  coherent  sys- 
tem. Every  new  thing  we  learn  should  take  its  proper 
place  in  our  growing  concept-mass,  bound  by  natural 
bonds  to  the  facts  already  in.  In  a  system,  every  fact 
is  connected  with  every  other  fact  by  some  definite 
thought-relation.  Hence  every  fact  so  posited  in  the 
mind  is  easily  recalled  by  the  combined  suggestive 
power  of  all  the  other  facts  in  the  system. 

Effects  of  Pathologic  Conditions.  That  the  theory 
above  unfolded  is  in  the  main  correct,  receives  addi- 
tional confirmation  from  certain  pathologic  condi- 
tions of  the  body.  The  effects  of  disease  and  of  the 
destruction  of  parts  of  the  brain,  upon  the  memory 
are  such  as  to  suggest,  if  not  conclusively  prove,  the 
physiological  basis  of  memory.  In  cases  of  injury  to 
the  head,  persons  are  known  to  have  forgotten  their 
own  names,  their  native  language,  everything  they 
ever  knew.  A  certain  Mr.  Tenent  having  fallen  into  a 
comatose  state,  and  later  on  into  apparent  death,  on 
recovering,  found  that  he  had  lost  all  knowledge  of 
his  past  life,  and  was  obliged  to  commence  again  the 
study  of  the  alphabet.  After  some  time  his  former 
knowledge  suddenly  returned  to  him,  as  if  some 
physical  impediment  which  obstructed  the  flow  of 
thought,  had  been  just  then  removed. 

The  case  of  Mezzofanti  (Giuseppo  Gaspardo — born 
at  Bologna,  1774;  Professor  of  Arabic  hi  the  Universi- 
ty of  Bologna,  1797;  librarian  to  the  Vatican,  Rome, 
1833;  made  a  cardinal,  1838;  died,  1849)  is  in  point 
here.  He  had  an  extraordinary  memory;  before  the 


162  MEMORY. 

close  of  his  university  career  he  had  mastered  the 
Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  Arabic,  Coptic,  Spanish,  French, 
German,  and  Swedish  languages.  He  could  speak 
fluently  in  thirty  languages,  and  was  acquainted  in 
various  degrees  with  seventy-two!  When  he  was  in- 
stalled as  cardinal  he  received  congratulations  from 
fifty-three  members  of  the  Propaganda,  to  which  he 
responded,  each  hi  his  own  tongue.  A  brief  attack  of 
fever  had  the  effect  to  blot  out  completely  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  seventy-two  languages  with  which  he  was 
acquainted.  His  memory  was  entirely  suspended;  he 
had  lost  apparently  all  his  vast  stores  of  knowledge. 
By  and  by,  upon  recovery  from  the  diseased  condition 
of  his  brain,  his  memory  was  restored.  The  case  does 
not  illustrate  a  "blotting  out"  of  impressions  which 
needed  to  be  imprinted  anew  on  the  substance  of  the 
brain,  but  only  a  temporary  obstruction  to  the  use 
of  that  which  was  really  in  possession. 

Sometimes  disease  has  the  reverse  effect — it  brings 
back  to  mind  what  has  long  since  been  forgotten. 
Coleridge  cites  the  case  of  a  German  servant  girl,  who 
in  sickness  was  heard  repeating  passages  of  Greek, 
Latin,  and  Hebrew,  of  whose  meaning  she  had  not 
the  least  idea.  The  mystery  was  solved  when  it  was 
ascertained  that  she  had  formerly  been  in  the  home  of 
a  learned  Rabbi,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  repeating 
aloud,  as  he  walked  in  his  study,  favorite  quotations 
from  the  Iliad,  the  Aeneid,  and  the  Hebrew  Bible. 
Dr.  Rush  mentions  the  case  of  an  Italian  who  died  in 
New  York;  in  the  beginning  of  his  sickness,  he  spoke 
English;  in  the  middle  period,  French;  but  on  the  day 
of  his  death,  nothing  but  Italian.  A  Lutheran  clergy- 
man of  Philadelphia  told  Dr.  Rush  that  it  was  not 
uncommon  for  the  Germans  and  Swedes  of  his  con- 


CASE  OF  ORPHAN  GIRL.  163 

gregation,  when  near  death,  to  speak  and  pray  and 
repeat  portions  of  the  catechism  in  their  native 
tongues,  which  some  of  them  had  probably  not  used 
for  fifty  years  and  which  they  had  completely  for- 
gotten. 

Dr.  Abercrombie,  a  distinguished  physician  of  Edin- 
burgh, hi  a  treatise  entitled  "Inquiries  Concerning  the 
Intellectual  Powers  of  Man  and  the  Investigation  of 
Truth,"  reports  the  folio  whig  very  remarkable  case: 
"A  girl  aged  seven  years,  an  orphan  of  the  lowest 
rank,  residing  in  the  house  of  a  farmer,  by  whom  she 
was  employed  in  tending  cattle,  was  accustomed  to 
sleep  in  an  apartment  separated  by  a  very  thin  parti- 
tion from  one  which  was  frequently  occupied  by  an 
itinerant  fiddler.  This  person  was  a  musician  of  con- 
siderable skill,  and  often  spent  a  part  of  the  night  in 
performing  pieces  of  a  refined  description;  but  his 
performance  was  not  taken  notice  of  by  this  child  ex- 
cept as  a  disagreeable  noise.  After  a  residence  of  six 
months  in  this  family  she  fell  into  bad  health,  and 
was  removed  into  the  house  of  a  benevolent  lady, 
where  on  her  recovery  after  a  protracted  illness,  she 
was  employed  as  a  servant. 

Some  years  after,  she  came  to  reside  with  this  lady. 
The  most  beautiful  music  was  often  heard  in  the 
house  during  the  night,  which  excited  no  small  inter- 
est and  wonder  in  the  family;  and  many  a  working 
hour  was  spent  in  endeavors  to  discover  the  invisible 
minstrel.  At  length  the  sound  was  traced  to  the 
sleeping-room  of  the  girl,  who  was  found  fast  asleep, 
but  uttering  from  her  lips  a  sound  exactly  resembling 
the  sweetest  tones  of  a  small  violin.  On  further  ob- 
servation it  was  found  that,  after  being  about  two 
hours  in  bed,  she  became  restless  and  began  to  mut- 


164  MEMORY. 

ter  to  herself;  she  then  uttered  sounds  precisely  re- 
sembling the  tuning  of  a  violin,  and  at  length,  after- 
some  prelude,  dashed  off  into  elaborate  pieces  of  mu- 
sic, which  she  performed  in  a  clear  and  accurate  man- 
ner, and  with  a  sound  exactly  resembling  the  most 
delicate  modulations  of  that  instrument.  During  the 
performance  she  sometimes  stopped,  made  the  sound 
of  retuning  her  instrument,  and  then  began  exactly 
where  she  had  left  off  in  the  most  correct  manner. 

These  paroxysms  occurred  at  irregular  intervals, 
varying  from  one  to  fourteen  or  even  twenty  nights; 
and  they  were  generally  followed  by  a  degree  of  fever, 
and  pains  over  various  parts  of  her  body. 

After  a  year  or  two,  her  music  was  not  confined  to 
the  imitation  of  the  violin,  but  was  often  exchanged 
for  that  of  a  piano  of  a  very  old  description,  which 
she  was  accustomed  to  hear  in  the  house  where  she 
now  lived;  and  she  then  also  began  to  sing,  imitating 
exactly  the  voices  of  several  ladies  of  the  family.  In 
another  year  from  this  time  she  began  to  talk  a  great 
deal  in  her  sleep,  in  which  she  seemed  to  fancy  herself 
instructing  a  young  companion.  She  has  been  known 
to  conjugate  correctly  Latin  verbs  which  she  had 
probably  heard  in  the  school-room  of  the  family;  and 
she  was  once  heard  to  speak  several  sentences  very 
correctly  hi  French,  at  the  same  time  stating  that 
she  heard  them  from  a  foreign  gentleman  whom  she 
had  met  accidentally  in  a  shop.  Being  questioned  on 
this  subject  when  awake,  she  remembered  having  seen 
the  gentleman  but  could  not  repeat  a  word  of  what 
he  said.  During  the  whole  period  of  this  remarkable 
affection,  which  seems  to  have  gone  on  for  ten  or 
eleven  years,  she  was,  when  awake,  a  dull,  awkward 
girl,  very  slow  in  receiving  any  kind  of  instruction, 


SIGNIFICANCE  OF  PATHOLOGIC  CASES.  165 

though  much  care  was  bestowed  upon  her;  and,  in 
point  of  intellect,  she  was  much  inferior  to  the  other 
servants  of  the  family.  In  particular  she  showed  no 
kind  of  turn  for  music.  About  the  age  of  twenty-one 
she  became  immoral  in  her  conduct,  and  was  dis- 
missed from  the  family.  It  is  believed  that  she  after- 
ward became  insane. 

What  significance  have  these  facts  to  the  psycholo- 
gist? They  strongly  suggest  the  physiological  basis 
of  memory.  They  show  that  changes  in  the  bodily 
state  are  accompanied  by  corresponding  changes  in 
the  condition  of  memory.  In  the  words  of  another, 
"The  adult  brain  is  a  system  of  vastly  intricate  and 
interrelated  molecular  mechanism.  It  has  been  dur- 
ing its  entire  history,  in  the  process  of  vital  organiza- 
tion of  these  intricate  interrelations.  The  particular 
brain-processes  concerned  in  each  act  of  reproduction 
all  fall  under  the  laws  which  control  the  general 
biological  process  of  perpetual  organization. 

The  mental  phenomena  are  a  series  of  related  'cir- 
cuits of  consciousness,'  overlapping  and  fading  into 
each  other.  The  brain-processes  are  a  succession  of 
related  nerve-commotions  in  centres  contiguous  and 
distant,  —  also  overlapping  and  fading  into  each 
other."* 

Personal  Element  in  Memory.  When  we  have  referred 
the  phenomena  of  retention  and  recall  to  a  physio- 
logical basis,  and  perhaps  have  succeeded  in  giving  a 
reasonably  satisfactory  explanation,  there  is  still 
something  in  the  nature  of  memory  which  cannot  be 
explained  on  this  hypothesis.  There  is  an  "unex- 
plored remainder,"  which  escapes  the  physical  tests 
of  the  biologist;  there  is  the  personal  element,  the 

*  Ladd,  "Outlines  of  Physiological  Psychology." 


l66  MEMORY. 

conscious  recognition  of  facts  and  events  as  my  own 
experiences,  which  is  the  grand  peculiarity,  the  pro- 
found mystery,  of  memory,— an  element  grounded  in 
spiritual  being,  an  affair  of  mind,  a  characteristic  of 
personality. 

The  teachings  concerning  organic  memory  are 
doubtless  true  so  far  as  the  organism  is  concerned, 
i.  e.,  considering  the  brain  as  an  instrument  of  mind 
in  the  function  of  memory;  but  behind  the  instrument 
is  the  user  of  the  instrument.  In  the  user  of  the  in- 
strument, in  the  agent  conditioning  the  agency 
stands  the  personal  element,  the  conscious  recogni- 
tion implied  in  every  act  of  memory,  the  truly  dis- 
tinctive part  of  memory;  and  this  is  spiritual,  per- 
sonal. 

The  remembered  past  must  be  attributed  to  some 
ego,  some  mind,  some  personality.  There  is  no 
memory-image,  that  does  not  involve  the  conscious 
recognition  of  that  particular  image,  as  representa- 
tive of  its  own  past,  by  the  same  mind.  Conscious 
recognition,  as  truly  as  retention  and  recall,  belongs 
to  memory  as  a  psychical  fact.  But  conscious  recog- 
nition as  a  psychical  fact  implies  a  conscious  ego,  a 
personal  self,  a  spiritual  power,  a  soul  in  freedom. 
"We  cannot  even  conceive  of  the  nature  of  the  physi- 
ological process  which  would  serve  as  an  'explana- 
tion' in  any  sense  of  the  word  but  for  this  character- 
istic of  recognition,  this  self-appropriation  as  belong- 
ing to  the  past  of  the  same  ego,  or  mind,  which  en- 
ters into  all  conscious  memory.  All  that  any  physio- 
logical process  could  possibly  explain,  in  case  we 
knew  its  nature  most  completely,  would  be  why  I  re- 
member one  thing  rather  than  another— granted  the 
inexplicable  power  of  the  mind  to  remember  at  all 


VARIETIES  OF  MEMORY.  167 

(i.  e.,  to  recognize  consciously  the  present  state  as 
representative  of  its  own  past).  This  power  is  a  spir- 
itual activity  wholly  sui  generis,  and  incapable  of  be- 
ing conceived  of  as  flowing  out  of  any  physical  condi- 
tion or  mode  of  energy  whatever." 

Varieties  and  Ponders  of  Memory.  There  are  many 
varieties  of  memory,  and  writers  on  the  subject  re- 
cord many  examples  of  its  extraordinary  develop- 
ment. Some  are  characterized  by  a  remarkable 
power  to  remember  names.  Themistocles  could  call 
by  name  all  the  citizens  of  Athens,  when  that  city 
numbered  over  20,000  inhabitants.  Cyrus  according 
to  Pliny  knew  the  name  of  every  soldier  in  his  vast 
army.  Dr.  Stewart  mentions  the  case  of  a  young 
Corsican  at  Padua,  who  could  repeat,  without  hesita- 
tion, 36,000  names  in  the  order  in  which  he  heard 
them,  and  then  reverse  the  order  and  proceed  back- 
ward to  the  first. 

Pontius  Latro  could  repeat  verbatim  every  speech 
he  had  ever  heard  in  the  Roman  senate. 

Some  memories  are  remarkable  for  their  power  of 
holding  figures  and  using  them  in  performing  difficult 
mathematical  operations.  Dr.  Wallis  of  Oxford,  one 
night  in  bed,  proposed  to  himself  a  number  of  fifty- 
three  places,  and  found  its  square  root  to  twenty- 
seven  places,  and,  without  writing  anything  down, 
dictated  the  result  twenty  days  afterward.  It  was 
not  unusual  for  him  to  perform  mathematical  opera- 
tions in  the  dark,  e.  g.,  extracting  roots  to  forty  deci- 
mal places. 

The  distinguished  Euler,  blind  from  early  life,  had 
always  in  his  memory  a  table  of  the  first  six  powers 
of  all  numbers,  from  one  to  one  hundred.  On  one  oc- 
casion two  of  his  pupils,  calculating  a  converging 


l68  MEMORY. 

series  on  reaching  the  seventeenth  term  found  their 
results  differing  by  one  unit  at  the  fiftieth  figure  and 
in  order  to  decide  which  was  correct,  Euler  went  over 
the  whole  in  his  head,  and  his  decision  was  found 
afterward  to  be  correct. 

Then  there  are  those  who  possess  extraordinary 
power  to  retain  and  recall  dates,  facts,  things,  inci- 
dents, etc.  Pascal,  the  distinguished  French  author, 
never  forgot  anything  he  had  read  or  heard  or  seen. 
Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  case  is  that  of  Maglia- 
bechi,  librarian  to  the  Duke  of  Tuscany.  He  could 
inform  any  one  who  consulted  him  not  only  who  had 
treated  directly  of  any  particular  subject,  but  also 
who  had  indirectly  touched  upon  it  in  treating  of 
other  subjects,  to  the  number  of  perhaps  one  hundred 
different  authors,  giving  with  the  greatest  exactness 
the  name  of  the  author,  name  of  the  book,  the  words, 
often  the  page,  where  they  were  to  be  found. 

To  test  his  memory,  a  gentleman  of  Florence  lent 
him  once  a  manuscript  which  he  had  prepared  for  the 
press,  and,  some  time  afterwards,  went  to  him  with  a 
sorrowful  face  and  pretended  to  have  lost  his  manu- 
script by  accident.  The  poor  author  seemed  incon- 
solable, and  begged  Magliabechi  to  recollect  of  it 
what  he  could,  and  write  it  down  for  him.  He  assured 
the  unfortunate  man  that  he  would  do  so,  and  setting 
about  it,  wrote  out  the  entire  manuscript  without 
missing  a  word! 

He  had  also  a  wonderful  local  memory.  He  knew 
where  every  book  in  the  great  library  stood.  One 
day  the  Grand  Duke  sent  for  him  to  inquire  if  he 
could  procure  a  book  which  was  very  scarce.  "No, 
sir,"  answered  Magliabechi,  "it  is  impossible;  there  is 
but  one  in  the  world;  that  is  in  the  Grand  Seignior's 


MOZART'S  MEMORY.  169 

library  at  Constantinople,  and  is  the  seventh  book, 
on  the  seventh  shelf,  on  the  right  band  as  you  go  in." 

Some  men  have  an  extraordinary  musical  memory. 
The  example  of  young  Mozart  writing  out  in  full  the 
Miserere  of  Allegri  is  well  known.  The  Miserere  is  a 
part  of  the  service  used  in  the  Pope's  chapel  in  Home, 
sacredly  guarded  and  kept  with  great  care  in  the 
archives  of  the  chapel.  Any  singer  found  tampering 
with  this  Miserere  of  Allegri,  or  giving  a  note  of  it  to 
an  outsider,  would  be  visited  by  excommunication. 
Only  three  copies  of  this  service  have  ever  been  sent 
out.  One  was  for  Emperor  Leopold,  another  to  the 
King  of  Portugal,  and  the  third  to  the  celebrated 
musician,  Padre  Martini. 

But  there  was  one  copy  that  was  made  without  the 
Pope's  orders,  and  not  by  a  member  of  the  choir 
either. 

When  Mozart  was  taken  to  Rome  in  his  youth,  by 
his  father,  he  went  to  the  service  at  St.  Peter's  and 
heard  the  service  in  all  its  impressiveness.  Mozart, 
senior,  could  hardly  arouse  the  lad  from  his  fascina- 
tion with  the  music,  when  the  time  came  to  leave  the 
cathedral.  That  night  after  they  had  retired  and 
the  father  slept,  the  boy  stealthily  arose  and  by  the 
bright  light  of  the  Italian  moon,  wrote  out  the  whole 
of  that  sacredly  guarded  Miserere.  The  Pope's  locks, 
bars  and  excommunications  gave  no  safety  against  a 
memory  like  Mozart's. 

Another  instance  is  mentioned  of  this  master's 
power  of  memory.  He  had  promised  to  write  a 
piano  and  violin  sonata  for  Mad.  Schlick,  the  great 
violinist.  Instead  of  attending  to  his  promise,  he 
went  to  work  on  other  things,  and  postponed  the 
sonata  until  a  few  days  before  the  concert,  when  the 


170  MEMORY. 

new  work  was  to  be  played.  Mozart  then  composed 
the  sonata  in  B  flat  major,  and  had  the  entire  work 
ready  in  his  mind,  but  still  delayed  the  odious  task 
of  writing  it  down.  A  day  before  the  concert  the  lady 
was  terrified,  having  not  yet  received  the  manuscript 
from  the  composer.  She  at  once  sent  a  servant  to 
remind  him  of  his  duty,  whereupon  Mozart  hastily 
wrote  out  the  violin  part  and  sent  it  to  the  lady.  In 
the  concert,  however,  he  played  his  own  part  from 
memory,  having  never  played  it  before. 

There  are  musicians  who  remember  as  many  as 
twenty,  thirty,  and  even  forty  operas,  each  of  which 
would  fill  an  evening.  The  blind  flutist  Dullon  knew 
125  concertos  by  heart  and  distinguished  each  by  a 
certain  number. 

Charles  Wesley  could  play  the  whole  of  Handel's 
numerous  choruses  from  memory.  Samuel  Wesley 
has  given  many  remarkable  instances  of  a  similarly 
retentive  memory;  one  of  the  most  remarkable  may 
be  mentioned.  In  his  early  days  he  composed  an 
oratorio  consisting  of  a  score  of  upward  of  three 
hundred  closely  written  manuscript  pages.  It  was 
afterwards  performed  at  one  of  the  Birmingham 
festivals.  Returning  to  London  the  composer  was 
robbed  of  his  portmanteau,  which  contained  this 
work,  and  he  never  again  heard  of  its  contents. 
Nearly  twenty-five  years  afterward,  at  the  soli- 
citation of  a  friend,  he  commenced  to  write  it  out 
afresh,  which  he  did  with  the  greatest  facility,  stating 
that  he  saw  the  score  in  his  mind's  eye  as  accurately 
and  distinctly  as  if  it  lay  before  him.* 

Cultivation  of  Memory.  That  there  are  great  initial 
differences  among  individual  memories  in  respect  to 

•Gates,  "Anecdotes  of  Great  Musicians." 


MEMORY  MAY  BE  CULTIVATED.  17! 

facility  of  recall  is  a  matter  of  common  observation. 
Some  are  naturally  gifted  with  a  fine  memory  while 
others  must  struggle  all  their  life  time  to  retain  what 
they  have  gained.  As  Locke  has  said,  "In  some  per- 
sons the  mind  retains  the  characters  drawn  on  it  like 
marble,  in  others  like  freestone,  and  in  others  little 
better  than  sand."  But  whether  a  memory  be  good 
or  faulty,  it  is  capable  of  cultivation  to  an  indefinite 
degree.  A  man  never  knows  his  possibilities  until  he 
tries.  No  one,  however  poor  his  memory  may  be, 
needs  to  despair,  for  by  proper  training  the  poorest 
of  memories  may  be  indefinitely  improved.  Prof. 
Norton  H.  Townshend  of  the  Ohio  Agricultural  Col- 
lege, at  the  age  of  five  years  received  an  injury  from  a 
fall  by  which  his  memory  was  almost  destroyed. 
What  he  had  learned  before  had  to  be  acquired  again. 
A  lesson  carefully  prepared  was  forgotten  before  reci- 
tation time.  When  sent  on  an  errand  he  had  to  re- 
turn to  ask  what  he  had  been  sent  for.  Driven  almost 
to  despair  by  such  experiences,  he  set  about  a  system- 
atic course  of  memorytraining,  and  in  process  of  time 
succeeded  so  well  that  he  surpassed  all  his  companions 
in  power  of  memory.  Thurlow  Weed,  the  famous 
journalist,  relates  that  his  memory  was  like  a  sieve. 
He  set  about  improving  his  memory,  and  at  length 
attained  a  power  as  remarkable  as  was  his  previous 
weakness.  His  method  was  the  simple  but  effective 
one  of  recalling  every  night  what  he  had  done  during 
the  day. 

As  to  the  best  means  and  methods  of  memorytrain- 
ing there  is  great  diversity  of  opinion.  Numerous 
books  have  been  written  on  the  art  of  improving  the 
memory,  and  various  schemes  have  been  devised  for 
that  purpose;  but  many  of  them  are  based  on  partial 


172  MEMORY. 

or  erroneous  views  of  the  true  principles  of  memory, 
and  are,  therefore,  of  little  or  no  real  value,  tending 
rather  to  distort  than  to  improve  and  strengthen 
the  memory.  Every  true  method  must  be  based  on 
an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  memory,  and 
the  principles  on  which  it  acts. 

When  we  remember  that  all  progress  in  knowledge, 
in  fact,  our  whole  psychic  life,  depends  on  memory,  we 
can  understand  how  important  its  proper  cultivation 
is.  Dr.  Hering  says:  "It  seems  that  we  owe  to 
memory  almost  all  that  we  have  or  are;  that  our 
ideas  or  conceptions  are  its  work,  and  that  our 
every  perception,  thought  and  movement  is  derived 
from  this  source.  Memory  collects  the  countless 
phenomena  of  our  existence  into  a  single  whole .... 
Our  consciousness  would  be  broken  up  into  as  many 
fragments  as  we  have  lived  seconds  but  for  the  bind- 
ing and  unifying  force  of  memory." 

According  to  Prof.  Bain,  "memory  is  the  faculty 
that  most  of  all  concerns  us  in  the  work  of  educa- 
tion ....  All  improvement  in  the  art  of  teaching  de- 
pends on  the  attention  that  we  give  to  the  various 
circumstances  that  facilitate  acquirement  or  lessen 
the  number  of  repetitions  for  a  given  effect." 

The  following  suggestions  will  be  found  helpful  in 
memory  culture: 

First,  Proper  Physical  Conditions.  If  memory  has  a 
physiological  basis,  and  if  the  facts  stated  in  the 
paragraph  on  pathologic  conditions  have  any  signifi- 
cance, it  follows  that  a  sound  physical  state  is  the 
first  condition  of  a  good  memory.  Whatever  affects 
the  general  health  must  also  affect  the  memory.  In- 
digestion, a  torpid  liver,  headache,  weariness  of  body, 
a  vitiated  atmosphere,  insufficient  nourishment,  etc., 


PROPER  PHYSICAL  CONDITIONS.  173 

all  affect  the  condition  of  the  brain  and  in  a  degree 
also  the  memory. 

There  must  be  a  sufficient  supply  of  good  healthy 
blood,  and  its  free  circulation  must  not  be  impeded. 
All  mind  action  and  brain  action  is  connected  with 
the  flow  of  blood.  When  there  is  intense  brain  action 
a  powerful  current  of  blood  is  sent  into  that  organ 
to  supply  fresh  material  and  carry  off  the  worn-out 
cells.  The  "balancing  experiment"  shows  this.  The 
human  body  is  very  delicately  balanced  in  a  horizon- 
tal position,  while  the  mind  is  in  a  state  of  indifferent 
activity.  If  now  in  this  condition  of  perfect  equipoise 
the  subject's  mind  is  suddenly  excited,  the  head  end 
of  the  body  is  found  to  go  down,  showing  that  an 
increased  quantity  of  blood  has  been  brought  into 
the  brain.  The  same  thing  is  shown  also  in  other 
ways.  The  phenomena  of  paleness  in  the  face  by 
fainting,  of  blushing,  of  cold  feet  while  studying  hard, 
etc.,  are  indirect  proofs  of  the  varying  blood  distri- 
bution according  to  the  degree  of  mental  activity. 

That  these  physical  conditions  indirectly  affect  the 
memory  is  reasonably  certain.  A  man  with  a  natur- 
ally fine  memory  was  taken  sick,  and,  on  recovering, 
he  suffered  for  nearly  a  year  from  feeble  heart  action. 
During  this  time  he  complained  of  not  being  able  to 
remember  scarcely  anything.  As  soon  as  his  heart 
action  became  normal  he  regained  his  usual  vigor  of 
memory.  Isaac  Taylor  says,  "that  this  organic 
mental  faculty  of  memory,  as  at  present  possessed 
even  by  the  most  highly  favored  individuals,  is  sus- 
ceptible of  much  enhancement  and  extension,  merely 
by  an  improvement  of  the  corporeal  constitution." 
A  normal  exercise  of  the  memory  supposes  an  active 
circulation  and  blood  rich  in  the  materials  necessary 


174  MEMORY. 

for  integration  and  disintegration"  (Th.  Ribot). 
"Disturbances  to  the  memory  may  arise  from  too 
feeble  circulation  through  the  brain  as  well  as  from 
over-excitement  or  congestion  of  the  blood  there" 
(SirH.  Holland). 

When  the  body  is  fresh  and  vigorous,  plentifully 
supplied  with  healthy  arterial  blood,  impressions  are 
easily  made,  and  are  usually  lasting.  But  when  the 
body  is  exhausted  by  fatigue,  or  suffers  from  want  of 
nourishment  or  impoverishment  of  blood,  the  im- 
pressions will  be  slight  and  made  with  difficulty. 
Bodily  vigor  is  thus  the  foundation  of  agood  memory. 
It  is  true  that  some  persons  of  feeble  body  have  pos- 
sessed powerful  memories;  but  a  person  in  health  al- 
ways remembers  better  than  when  weakened  by 
disease. 

Therefore,  pay  attention  to  the  laws  of  hygiene. 
Keep  the  health  of  the  body  at  the  high  water  mark. 
Take  sufficient  exercise  and  exercise  of  such  a  kind  as 
will  call  into  action  every  muscle  and  every  nerve  of 
the  whole  body.  It  is  a  mistake  to  sit  in  your  room 
a  whole  day  long  trying  to  memorize  a  piece  of  mu- 
sic, till  you  become  weary  and  nervous.  Go  out  some- 
times and  engage  in  some  kind  of  physical  exercise,  it 
does  not  matter  much  what  it  is,  until  the  blood  is 
made  to  course  through  every  vein  and  artery  and 
capillary,  and  the  flush  of  new  life  comes  into  your 
cheeks.  Then,  after  a  few  moments  of  rest,  resume 
your  task  and  you  will  accomplish  far  more  than 
you  could  possibly  do  by  the  painful  process  of  con- 
tinuous poring;  and,  what  is  still  better,  you  will 
train  your  memory  in  the  right  way,  so  that  you  will 
retain  far  more  easily  what  you  learn.  Avoid  all 
kinds  of  dissipation,  and  the  use  of  stimulants  to 


CLEAR  PERCEPTION  NECESSARY.  175 

brace  up  a  depleted  nervous  system.  Every  advan- 
tage gained  by  resorting  to  such  practices  is  only 
temporary  and  at  the  expense  of  the  delicate  nervous 
tissue.  In  the  end  the  effect  is  to  lower  the  bodily 
tone  and  weaken  the  memory. 

Secondly,  Clear  Perception.  Whether  a  given  idea  or 
fact  will  be  easily  recalled  depends  largely  upon  the 
way  the  fact  is  learned.  If  the  perception  is  indistinct 
and  the  mental  image  vague,  it  will  soon  fade  from 
memory.  Indistinctness  of  mental  image,  haziness 
of  perception,  lies  at  the  root  of  many  a  bad  memory. 
Learn  to  see  and  hear  things  sharply  and  accurately. 
That  which  is  treasured  up  and  recalled  in  memory 
is  the  impression  made  upon  the  mind  itself  by  the 
sensation  of  idea,  and  unless  this  is  clear  and  distinct 
that  which  is  recalled  will  be  imperfect.  Therefore, 
we  must  attend  carefully  to  the  formation  of  the 
original  impression.  "When  the  impression  that  is 
formed  in  the  mind  is  clear,  distinct,  and  vivid,  it  will 
be  readily  reproduced  with  much  of  its  original 
character  and  force;  but  when,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  indistinct,  hazy,  ill-formed,  it  will  be  recalled  with 
difficulty,  and  only  in  a  very  imperfect  manner."* 
Anyone  can  easily  verify  these  statements  by  his  own 
experience.  That  which  we  have  observed  most 
sharply,  we  recall  most  easily.  Objects  distinctly  be- 
held are  longest  retained  in  the  mind  and  most  readily 
recalled. 

Cultivate  the  visualizing  habit,  i.  e.,  make  every  con- 
cept stand  out  with  the  distinctness  and  complete- 
ness of  a  sharply  formed  image.  When  you  memor- 
ize a  piece  of  music,  make  the  notes  and  bars  and 
lines  stand  forth  like  a  picture  in  the  mind;  then  also 

*Kay,  "Memory:  What  It  IB,  and  How  to  Improve  It." 


176  MEMORY. 

the  auditory  image  of  the  sounds  should  be  as  sharp 
as  that  which  appears  to  the  eye.  Photograph,  as  it 
were,  on  the  retina  measure  after  measure,  page  after 
page  with  such  distinctness  and  accuracy  that  after- 
wards you  can  repeat  their  contents  note  for  note 
and  word  for  word,  just  as  if  you  were  reading  them 
from  the  printed  page.  This  in  turn  will  form  a  brain 
habit  of  remembering  things  pictorially,  and  hence 
more  exactly  and  with  greater  interest.  "The  best 
workmen,"  says  Sir  Francis  Galton,  "are  those  who 
visualize  the  whole  of  what  they  propose  to  do  be- 
fore they  take  a  tool  in  their  hands."  The  remark  is 
applicable  also  to  the  musician;  he  should  have  a 
clear  image  of  the  notes  before  attempting  to  play  or 
sing  them. 

In  the  same  connection  it  should  be  observed  that 
the  first  impression  of  an  object  made  on  the  mind  is 
of  special  importance  in  respect  to  memory.  Novelty 
generally  awakens  interest,  and  when  an  object  is 
perceived  under  the  excitement  of  heightened  interest, 
it  usually  makes  a  lasting  impression.  If  curiosity  is 
strongly  excited  about  a  thing  it  becomes  readily 
fixed  in  the  memory.  "As  a  rule  the  mind  looks  upon 
a  thing  with  more  interest,  and  its  curiosity  is  more 
excited  concerning  it  on  its  first  appearance  than  on 
any  subsequent  occasion.  Hence,  the  first  occasion 
of  an  impression  reaching  the  mind  is  always  the 
most  favorable  for  fixing  it  in  the  memory.  Each 
subsequent  recurrence  of  it  renders  it  more  familiar 
to  the  mind,  which  is  therefore  less  curious  about  it; 
and,  besides,  the  repeated  appearance  of  the  same 
impression  under  different  circumstances  tends  to 
diminish  the  clearness  and  distinctness  of  the  origin- 
al." Mr.  Galton  observes  "that  the  first  image  most 


RATIONAL  ASSOCIATION.  177 

people  have  acquired  of  any  scene  is  apt  to  hold  its 
place  tenaciously  in  spite  of  subsequent  need  of  correc- 
tion ....  If  they  see  an  object  equally  often  in  many 
positions,  the  memories  combine  and  confuse  one  an- 
other, forming  a  composite  blur  which  they  cannot 
dissect  into  its  components.  They  are  less  able  to 
visualize  the  features  of  intimate  friends  than  those 
of  persons  of  whom  they  have  caught  only  a  single 
glance." 

Thirdly,  Rational  Association.  In  the  chapter  on  As- 
sociation this  principle  was  fully  explained.  It  re- 
mains here  simply  to  point  out  its  application  to  the 
memory  and  to  memory  training.  When  things 
are  rationally  associated  in  one's  concept-mass,  that 
is,  according  to  their  inner  thought-relations,  such  as 
those  of  cause  and  effect,  instrument  and  use,  means 
and  end,  etc.,  they  are  more  easily  retained  and  re- 
called than  when  not  so  associated.  If  we  reflect  on 
the  fundamental  facts  of  association  we  shall  see  the 
reason  for  this.  Each  new  mental  acquisition  should 
be  linked  by  some  logical  thought-relation  to  old 
facts  already  in  the  mind.  Order  and  classification 
of  facts  to  be  remembered  are  necessary.  "Nothing," 
says  Prof.  Blackie,  "helps  the  mind  so  much  as  order 
and  classification.  Classes  are  always  few,  individ- 
uals many;  to  know  the  class  well  is  to  know  what  is 
most  essential  in  the  character  of  the  individual,  and 
what  burdens  the  memory  least  to  retain." 

Hence,  the  need  of  a  concept-system  in  regard  to 
everything  we  learn  and  wish  to  retain.  Facts 
thrown  together  into  the  mind  in  a  state  of  isolation 
and  confusion  are  hard  to  recall;  besides,  the  habit  of 
doing  so  weakens  the  power  of  memory.  The  wise 

Psychology.  12 


178  MEMORY. 

man  brings  things  into  his  mind  in  their  right  rela- 
tions; he  insists  upon  order  and  classification  in  his 
knowledge;  facts  are  grouped  according  to  their 
genera  and  species,  and  nothing  lies  loose  in  his 
mind. 

In  the  following  example  quoted  by  Prof.  Gordy, 
from  "Tate's  Philosophy  of  Education,"  notice 
the  effect  on  memory  of  grouping  ideas  according  to 
their  natural  relations:— 

"Betty,"  said  a  farmer's  wife  to  her  servant,  "you  must  go  to 
town  for  some  things.  You  have  such  a  bad  memory  that  you 
always  forget  something,  but  see  if  you  can  remember  them  all 
this  time."  "I'm  very  sorry,  ma'am,"  said  Betty,  'that  I've  such 
a  bad  memory,  but  it's  not  my  fault;  I  wish  I  had  a  better  one." 
"Now  mind,"  said  her  mistress,  "listen  carefully  to  what  I  tell  you. 
I  want  suet  and  currants  for  the  pudding."  "Yes,  ma'am,  suet 
and  currants."  "Then  I  want  leeks  and  barley  for  the  broth, 
don't  forget  them."  "No,  ma'am,  leeks  and  barley;  I  shan't  for- 
get." '"Then  I  want  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  a  pound  of  tea,  a 
pound  of  coffee,  and  six  pounds  of  sugar.  And  as  you  go  by  the 
dressmaker's,  tell  her  she  must  bring  out  calico  for  the  lining, 
some  black  thread  and  a  piece  of  narrow  tape."  'Yes,  ma'am," 
says  Betty,  preparing  to  depart.  "Oh,  at  the  grocer's  get  a  jar  of 
black  currant  jam,"  adds  the  mistress.  The  farmer  who  has  been 
quietly  listening  to  this  conversation,  calls  Betty  back  when  she 
has  started,  and  asks  her  what  she  is  going  to  do  in  the  town. 
"Well,  sir,  I'm  going  to  get  tea,  sugar,  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  cof- 
fee, coffee— let  me  see,  there's  something  else."  "That  won't  do," 
said  the  farmer;  "you  must  arrange  the  things  as  tha  parson  does 
his  sermon,  under  heads,  or  you  won't  remember  them.  Now, 
you  have  three  things  to  think  of — breakfast,  dinner  and  dress- 
maker," "Yes,  sir."  "Whatare  you  going  to  get  for  breakfast?" 
''Tea  and  coffee  and  sugar  and  jam,"  says  Betty.  "Where  do  you 
get  these  things?"  "At  the  grocer's."  "Very  well.  Now,  what 
will  be  the  things  put  on  the  table  at  dinner?"  "There'll  be  broth, 
meat  and  pudding."  "Now,  what  have  you  to  get  for  each  of 
these?"  "For  the  broth  I  have  to  get  leeks  and  barley,  for  the 
meat  I  have  to  get  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  and  for  the  pudding  I 


THE  EVIL  OF  CRAMMING.  179 

must  get  suet  and  currants."  "Very  good.  Where  will  you  get 
these  things?"  "I  must  get  the  leeks  at  the  gardener's,  the  mut- 
ton and  suet  at  the  butcher's,  and  the  barley  and  the  currants  at 
the  grocer's."  "But  you  had  something  else  to  get  at  the  gro- 
cer's." "Yes,  sir,  the  things  for  breakfasts-tea,  coffee,  sugar  and 
jam."  "Very  well.  Then  at  the  grocer's  you  have  four  things  to 
get  for  breakfast  and  two  for  dinner.  When  you  go  to  the  grocer's 
think  of  one  part  of  his  counter  as  your  breakfast  table  and 
another  part  as  your  dinner  table,  and  go  over  the  things  wanted 
for  breakfast  and  the  things  wanted  for  dinner.  Then  you  will 
remember  the  four  things  for  breakfast  and  the  two  for  dinner. 
Then  you  will  have  two  other  places  to  go  for  the  dinner.  What 
are  they?"  "The  gardener's  for  leeks,  and  the  butcher's  for  meat 
and  suet."  "Very  well.  That  is  three  of  the  places.  What  is  the 
fourth?"  "The  dressmaker's  to  tell  her  to  bring  out  calico, 
thread  and  tape  for  the  dress."  "Now,"  said  the  master,  "I think 
you  can  tell  me  everything  you  are  going  for. ' '  ' 'Yes' ' ,  said  Betty, 
"I'm  going  to  the  grocer's,  the  butcher's,  and  the  gardener's.  At 
the  grocer's  I'm  going  to  get  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  and  jam  for 
breakfast,  and  barley  and  currants  for  dinner.  But  then  I  shall 
not  have  all  the  things  for  dinner,  so  I  must  go  to  the  butcher's 
for  a  shoulder  of  mutton  and  suet,  and  for  leeks  to  the  gardener's. 
Then  I  must  call  at  the  dressmaker's  to  tell  her  to  bring  lining, 
tape  and  thread  for  the  dress."  Off  goes  Betty  and  does  every- 
thing she  has  to  do.  "Never  tell  us  again,"  said  her  master,  "that 
you  can't  help  having  a  bad  memory."* 

Cramming,  that  is,  preparing  a  lesson  by  commit- 
ting 'points'  to  memory  simply  for  the  sake  of  reci- 
ting them  brilliantly,  is  a  bad  mode  of  study,  and 
weakens  the  memory.  Habits  of  continuous,  persis- 
tent application  should  be  enforced,  whereby  the 
mind  grows  in  a  normal  way.  The  lesson  must  be 
studied  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  general  mental 
strength,  and  then  also  the  memory  will  be  strength- 
ened in  the  same  proportion.  Nothing  is  better  as  a 
means  for  improving  the  memory  than  general  intel- 
ligence and  systematic  study.  If  the  memory  is  to  be 


*Gordy,  "Lessons  in  Psychology." 


l8o  MEMORY. 

retentive,  there  must  be  given  it  something  to  do;  it 
grows  strong  by  exercise,  just  as  the  muscles  of  the 
athlete  grow  by  persistent  use.  Fill  the  mental  store- 
house with  facts  of  knowledge,  not  crammed  into  the 
mind,  but  thoroughly  studied. 

It  is  vain  to  rely  on  artificial  methods,  such  as  are 
usually  set  forth  under  systems  of  mnemonics;  after 
all,  there  is  only  one  way,  and  that  is  hard  study, 
thorough,  earnest  study.  One  lesson  thoroughly  and 
perfectly  understood,  one  etude  mastered  in  all  the 
points  of  its  contents,  will  do  you  more  good  than  ten 
lessons  or  ten  etudes  superficially  gone  over  or  mechan- 
ically crammed  into  the  mind.  Without  careful  study 
there  is  no  mental  growth,  no  progress  in  unfolding 
the  potentialities  of  the  soul.  Other  things  may  be 
seized  on  by  might,  or  purchased  by  money;  but 
knowledge  is  to  be  gained  only  by  study. 

"Learning  by  heart"  is  not  memory-training;  it 
tends  to  a  mechanical  habit  of  committing  words, 
not  ideas,  to  memory.  As  Locke  says,  "Learning  by 
heart,  I  know  not  what  it  serves  for  but  to  misspend 
the  time  and  pains  of  pupils,  and  give  them  a  disgust 
and  aversion  to  their  books."  Pope  in  the  "Dunciad" 
thus  satirizes  this  practice:— 

"Since  man  from  beast  by  words  is  known, 
Words  are  man's  province,  words  we  teach  alone." 

In  a  similar  strain  Shakespeare  makes  two  of  his 
characters  say:— 

"What  do  you  read,  my  lord?" 
"Words,  words,  wordsl" 

—Hamlet,  Act  II. 

Committing  simply  words  and  notes  without  at 
the  same  time  associating  with  them  the  ideas  they 
stand  for,  has  little  disciplinary  value  and  certainly 


GIVE  CLOSE  ATTENTION.  l8l 

is  time  lost  and  energy  spent  in  vain.  Gain  ideas, 
gain  knowledge  of  the  piece  you  are  memorizing  and 
of  the  composer.  Study,  really  study,  the  masters, 
and  observe  with  what  a  sweep  of  thought  they 
range  over  the  field  of  their  subject.  That  kind  of 
mental  exercise  agrees  with  the  nature  of  the 
mind  and  strengthens  the  memory.  "Never  be 
satisfied  with  the  surface  of  things;  probe  them  to 
the  bottom,  and  let  nothing  go  till  you  understand 
it  as  thoroughly  as  your  powers  will  enable  you.  If 
you  are  working  on  a  classic  composition,  while  you 
are  learning  the  outward  form  of  it  as  it  appears  to 
the  eye  and  ear,  learn  also  the  secret  thought,  the 
informing  soul,  that  speaks  through  the  outward 
form."  It  may  be  a  slow  and,  perhaps,  at  first  a 
tedious  process,  but  it  yields  excellent  results.  Good 
memory  is  good  knowing.  The  great  thing  in  memory 
training  is  to  give  the  memory  plenty  of  logically 
associated  ideas  to  hold.  "Memory  exercised  is 
memory  trained." 

Fourthly,  Close  Attention.  Attention  is  necessary  for 
the  cultivation  of  memory.  Perhaps  the  defects  of 
memory,  of  which  most  persons  complain,  are  due 
more  to  the  want  of  attention  than  to  any  other 
cause.  It  is  a  matter  of  universal  experience  that 
what  we  attend  to  we  remember,  but  what  we  do  not 
attend  to  we  readily  forget.  By  attention  (attendo, 
to  stretch  towards)  is  meant  that  attitude  or  state 
of  mind  by  which  its  energy  is  voluntarily  fixed  upon 
some  one  particular  object  or  act  or  idea,  to  the  ex- 
clusion for  the  time  being  of  all  other  things.  As  the 
etymology  of  the  word  suggests,  an  act  of  attention 
implies  an  active  exertion  of  energy,  a  concentration 
of  thought,  an  application  of  will;  it  therefore  signi- 


l82  MEMORY. 

fies  that  the  soul  is  wide  awake  when  it  is  in  a  state 
of  attention. 

"Memory  is  very  much  influenced  by  attention  or  a 
full  and  distinct  perception  of  the  fact  or  object,  with 
a  view  of  its  being  remembered.  "—Dr.  Abercrombie. 

"It  is  a  matter  of  common  remark  that  the  per- 
manence of  the  impression,  which  anything  leaves  on 
the  memory,  is  proportioned  to  the  degree  of  atten- 
tion which  was  originally  given  to  it."— D.  Stewart. 

"The  experiences  most  permanently  impressed  upon 
consciousness  are  those  upon  which  the  greatest 
amount  of  attention  has  been  fixed."— D.  Gr.  Thomp- 
son. 

"An  act  of  attention,  that  is,  an  act  of  concentra- 
tion, seems  thus  necessary  to  every  exertion  of  con- 
sciousness, as  a  certain  contraction  of  the  pupil  is  re- 
quisite to  every  exertion  of  vision  ....  Attention, 
then,  is  to  consciousness  what  the  contraction  of  the 
pupil  is  to  sight,  or  to  the  eye  of  the  mind  what  the 
microscope  or  telescope  is  to  the  bodily  eye  ....  It 
constitutes  the  better  half  of  all  intellectual  power." 
—Sir  William  Hamilton. 

"The  force  wherewith  anything  strikes  the  mind  is 
generally  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  attention  be- 
stowed upon  it.  The  great  art  of  memory  is  atten- 
tion ....  Inattentive  people  have  always  bad  memo- 
ries."—Dr.  J.  Beattie. 

From  the  nature  of  the  case,  the  mind  can  attend 
to  but  one  thing  at  a  time.  According  to  Bain,  a 
plurality  of  stimulations  of  the  nerves  may  coexist, 
but  they  can  affect  consciousness  only  by  turns, 
or  one  at  a  time.  "It  is  established  by  experience," 
says  M.  Jouffroy,  "that  we  cannot  give  our  atten- 
tion to  two  different  objects  at  the  same  time."  Sir 


ATTENTION  TO  ONE  THING.  183 

William  Hamilton  states  this  principle  in  the  form  of 
a  law,  namely,  "that  the  intension  of  our  knowledge  is 
in  the  inverse  ratio  of  its  extension — i.e.,  that  the 
greater  the  number  of  objects  to  which  our  conscious- 
ness is  simultaneously  extended,  the  smaller  is  the 
intensity  with  which  it  is  able  to  consider  each,  and 
consequently  the  less  vivid  and  distinct  will  be  the  in- 
formation it  obtains  of  the  several  objects  . .  .  When 
our  interest  in  any  particular  object  is  excited,  and 
when  we  wish  to  obtain  all  the  knowledge  concerning 
it  in  our  power,  it  behooves  us  to  limit  our  consider- 
ation of  that  object  to  the  exclusion  of  others."* 

There  is  a  great  variety  of  cases  in  which  the  mind 
apparently  exerts  different  acts  of  attention  at  one 
and  the  same  time;  but  knowing  the  incalculable 
rapidity  of  the  thought-processes,  it  is  obvious  that 
all  such  cases  may  be  explained  without  supposing 
those  acts  to  be  coexistent.  For  example,  in  a  con- 
cert of  music  a  good  ear  can  attend  to  the  different 
parts  separately,  or  can  attend  to  them  all  at  once, 
and  feel  the  full  effect  of  the  harmony.  In  this  case, 
however,  the  mind  does  not  attend  to  several  things 
at  the  same  time;  but  it  constantly  transfers  its  at- 
tention from  one  part  of  the  music  to  another,  and 
its  operations  are  so  rapid  as  to  give  us  no  percep- 
tion of  any  interval  of  time  between  its  separate  acts. 
Strong  objections  have,  indeed,  been  urged  against 
this  doctrine;  but  we  think  a  close  examination  of  all 
the  facts  in  the  case  will  result  in  an  affirmative 
decision. 

The  power  of  attention,  the  power  of  fixing  the 
mind  upon  a  particular  object  till  it  has  been 
thoroughly  mastered,  more  than  anything  else  dis- 

*Hamilton,  "Methaphysics,"  ed.  by  Bowen,  p.  159. 


184  MEMORY. 

tinguishes  the  man  of  genius  from  others.  Indeed, 
genius  has  been  denned  as  "the  power  of  concentra- 
ting and  prolonging  the  attention  upon  any  given 
subject."  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  in  describing  his  method 
of  study,  said:  "I  keep  the  subject  continually 
before  me,  and  wait  till  the  first  dawning  opens 
slowly  by  little  and  little  into  a  clear  light;"  and,  when 
complimented  on  his  great  discoveries,  he  modestly 
replied,  "that  if  he  had  made  any  improvements  in 
the  sciences,  it  was  owing  more  to  patient  attention 
than  to  any  other  talent. ' '  On  the  other  hand,  the  want 
of  power  to  hold  attention  upon  any  one  thing  for 
any  length  of  time  is  a  mark  of  a  weak  mind.  "Im- 
beciles and  idiots",  says  Esquirol,  "are  destitute  of 
the  faculty  of  attention."  According  to  an  authority, 
"one  of  the  most  constant  and  characteristic  symp- 
toms of  coming  insanity  is  a  debilitated  power  of 
attention  .  .  .  The  growing  deficiency  of  attention 
points  to  a  coming  imbecility,  and  especially  to  an 
impending  attack  of  softening  of  the  brain." 

The  bearing  of  all  this  upon  the  memory  is  apparent. 
He  who  would  have  a  powerful  memory  must  be  able 
to  concentrate  his  attention.  Says  Joseph  Cook, 
"Attention  is  the  mother  of  memory,  and  interest  is 
the  mother  of  attention."  The  evil  of  reading  or  play- 
ing mechanically  or  automatically  is  immediately  in- 
ferred. When  you  read  a  book  or  play  a  piece  of  music 
you  must  not  allow  the  mind  to  fall  into  a  passive 
state,  for  that  will  weaken  the  memory.  Persons  who 
never  summon  their  will  power  to  aid  them  in  tracing 
out  the  thought  contained  hi  the  composition  in 
hand,  are  sure  to  forget  the  next  moment  what  they 
learned  the  moment  before.  But  this  is  not  all;  the 


REPETITION  IMPROVES  MEMORY.  185 

worst  of  it  is  that  the  memory  is  thereby  abused,  in- 
capacitated for  better  use. 

Fifthly,  Constant  Repetition.  As  the  ground  of  this 
principle  has  already  been  fully  explained  in  connec- 
tion with  the  formation  of  habits  we  need  not  here 
farther  elaborate  it.  The  fact  is  that  simple  repeti- 
tion of  an  act  causes  that  act  to  be  more  easily  recall- 
ed than  one  not  so  repeated.  It  is  a  law  of  our  sys- 
tem by  which  actions  at  first  requiring  much  atten- 
tion and  effort  are  after  frequent  repetition  perform- 
ed much  more  easily,  or  even  without  conscious 
effort.  This  is  exemplified  in  various  acts  of  daily 
life,  such  as  reading  and  writing,  but  in  a  most  re- 
markable degree  in  music.  At  first  the  notes  must  be 
carefully  scanned  one  by  one  as  they  stand  upon  the 
staff,  and  the  keys  on  the  instrument  must  be  hunted 
out,  and  the  placing  of  the  fingers  must  be  watched,  all 
of  which  is  a  slow  and  painfully  conscious  process;  but 
with  frequent  repetition  of  the  same  acts  in  the  same 
way  facility  is  gamed,  and  by  and  by  the  most  rapid 
movements  are  performed  with  the  minimum  of  at- 
tention and  effort. 

Dr.  Carpenter  says:  "The  aptitude  which  is  acquir- 
ed by  practice  for  the  performance  of  certain  actions 
that  were  at  first  accompanied  with  difficulty,  seems 
to  result  as  much  from  a  structural  change  which  the 
continual  repetition  of  them  occasions  in  the  muscles, 
as  in  the  habit  which  the  nervous  system  acquired  of 
exciting  movement."  And  Th.  Ribot  adds,  "After 
each  action  a  muscle  is  better  prepared  for  action, 
more  disposed  to  a  repetition  of  the  same  work,  and 
readier  to  reproduce  a  given  organic  process."  Thus, 
what  was  at  first  accomplished  with  difficulty,  by  and 
by  becomes  second  nature,  so  that  no  effort  is  required 


l86  MEMORY. 

to  perform  it.  The  effect  of  practice  shows  that  the 
more  frequently  the  same  fibres  are  thrown  into  ac- 
tion, the  easier  does  their  action  become. 

Thus,  strength  of  memory  and  of  mind  comes  by 
practice,  just  as  strength  of  muscle  is  developed  by 
constant  use.  Milo,  the  Greek  athlete,  could  carry 
the  ox  on  his  shoulders,  because  earlier  he  carried  the 
calf  day  after  day.  He  developed  his  extraordinary 
physical  strength  by  oft-repeated  daily  exercise;  so 
must  strength  of  memory  be  cultivated,  namely,  by 
patiently  and  persistently  doing  the  same  thing  over 
and  over  again.  Nor  should  this  be  a  blind  repeti- 
tion, a  mere  task  exercise,  a  treadmill  performance. 
In  proportion  as  it  is  done  with  thought  and  intelli- 
gence, it  can  be  made  interesting  and  invigorating. 
If  we  bring  into  our  daily  exercises  a  laudable  ambi- 
tion and  resolute  will  to  make  the  very  best  use 
of  our  time  and  opportunities,  it  affords  us  real  satis- 
faction to  find  that  with  each  day's  routine  of  prac- 
tice we  are  gaining  in  strength  and  facility  and  are 
better  prepared  for  the  next  step.  By  infusing  interest 
into  our  work  we  shall  be  able  more  and  more  ta 
beguile  our  moments  of  toil,  the  drudgery  of  our 
tasks,  into  pleasant  occupation  and  invigorating  ex- 
ercises. This  leads  to  the  mention  of, 

Sixthly,  The  Principle  of  Interest.  If  interest  can  be 
brought  to  the  aid  of  memory,  the  battle  is  half  won. 
Boys,  who  apparently  can  remember  nothing  pertain- 
ing to  their  studies,  are  able  to  recall  with  the  utmost 
ease  and  with  perfect  accuracy  every  move  in  a  game 
of  base  ball  or  a  game  of  checkers,  because  they  are 
intensely  interested  in  the  game. 

As  a  matter  of  experience,  we  know  that  whatever 
we  are  deeply  interested  in  we  easily  remember.  When 


ILLUSTRATIONS  AND  STORIES.  187 

the  learner  becomes  interested  in  his  music  work  he  has 
little  trouble  to  remember  what  he  has  learned.  Look- 
ing at  things  from  the  standpoint  of  results  ofttimes 
has  the  effect  to  arouse  interest  hi  things  to  which 
otherwise  we  are  indifferent.  Thus,  when  students 
discover  that  the  study  of  psychology  is  a  great  ad- 
vantage to  them  in  the  pursuit  of  their  music  studies, 
they  become  interested  in  the  subject. 

The  philosophy  of  illustrations  in  spoken  and  writ- 
ten discourse  rests,  hi  large  part,  on  this  principle  of 
interest.  We  know  what  effect  a  happy  illustration 
has  to  fix  a  given  fact  or  statement  in  the  memory. 
By  the  use  of  illustrations  we  link  abstract  ideas  with 
concrete  things.  What  we  can  see,  hear,  or  touch,  is 
more  interesting  than  what  we  try  to  hold  in  abstract 
thought.  On  the  same  principle  depends  the  use  of 
figures  of  speech,  pictures,  maps,  charts,  object  les- 
sons, etc.  Teaching  by  parables  and  fables  is  another 
example  of  the  same  kind.  Who  can  forget  the  truth 
taught  by  the  parable  of  the  sower,  the  good  shep- 
herd, the  prodigal  son?  As  long  as  the  world  stands 
men  will  remember  the  beautiful  parables,  the  mas- 
terly word-pictures  of  our  Saviour.  So  likewise  the 
familiar  fables,  such  as  those  of  the  wolf  and  the  lamb, 
the  fox  and  the  sour  grapes,  the  lion  and  the  ass, 
cling  to  our  memory,  when  many  other  things  fade 
almost  as  soon  as  learned. 

Here  also  is  to  be  noted  the  use  of  stories  in  teach- 
ing children.  Story-telling  is  a  great  and  useful  art. 
He  who  knows  how  to  do  this  well  is  a  good  teacher 
of  children  and  youth.  He  who  can  lodge  a  great 
truth  in  the  mind  of  childhood  by  means  of  a  good 
story,  invests  that  truth  with  a  permanent  interest 


l88  MEMORY. 

and  fastens  it  in  the  memory  of  the  child  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

Nora  Archibald  Smith  has  written  a  delightful 
chapter  on  the  importance  of  the  story  in  child  ed- 
ucation, which  we  wish  to  recommend  to  all  students 
and  teachers.  She  says:  "As  you  follow  the  dusky 
track  of  the  twilight  as  it  tiptoes  round  the  world,  in 
land  after  land,  you  and  the  twilight  together  will 
steal  upon  a  little  circle  of  children  gathered  about 
the  knees  of  a  story-teller. . . .  Earth  is  circled  with 
this  vast  company  of  story-tellers,  nightly  surround- 
ed by  their  little  ones,  black,  and  white,  and  red,  and 
brown,  and  yellow;  their  eager,  upturned  faces  and 
eloquent  voices  all  uttering  the  same  plea,  'Tell  us  a 
story!  Oh,  tell  us  a  story!' 

What  is  the  secret  of  the  charm  which  story-telling 
has  for  the  child?  Is  it  not  first,  perhaps,  the  fact 
that  it  interprets  life — wonderful,  mysterious,  fasci- 
nating life — to  him,  and  places  in  his  hand  a  sort  of 
telescope,  through  which  he  eagerly  peers  into  the 
world  across  the  threshold  of  his  nursery?  Is  it  not, 
again,  that  it  addresses  the  imagination— his  domi- 
nant power,  his  delight,  his  way  of  escape,  that  he 
may  be  able  to  bear  the  dullness,  the  denseness,  the 
want  of  comprehension,  of  the  grown-up  world?"* 

NOTE— It  is  a  matter  for  congratulation  that  in  recent  days  the 
use  of  stories  has  been  introduced  into  music  teaching.  This  prin- 
ciple is  happily  illustrated  in  an  exceedingly  bright  and  beautiful 
publication  recently  issued  by  Miss  Nettie  Delphine  Ellsworth  with 
the  title  "Little  Journey s  in  Melody  Land."  It  is  a  step  in  the  right 
direction,  and  is  one  of  the  fruits  of  mind-study  as  applied  to  mu- 
sic. It  is  to  be  hoped  that  others  will  be  stimulated  to  use  their 
talents  in  the  interests  of  childhood  and  music  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. Another  similar  fruit  of  the  study  of  Psychology  in  recent 

*  Nora  Archibald  Smith,  "The  Children  of  the  Future." 


ADVANTAGE  OF  MEMORIZING  MUSIC.  189 

times  ia  the  introduction  of  the  Kindergarten  method  into  the 
musical  instruction  of  children.  "We  see  in  all  this  how  the  prin- 
ciple of  interest  is  gaming  ground  in  learning  and  teaching  music. 

The  Pedagogical  Value  of  Memorizing  Music.  In  recent 
times  it  has  become  the  custom  of  many  music  teach- 
ers to  require  their  pupils  to  memorize  most  or  all  of 
the  lessons  they  recite.  Also  at  concerts  and  recitals 
it  is  customary  to  play  without  notes.  This  practice 
has  important  pedagogical  bearings,  and  from  the 
standpoint  of  psychology  has  many  things  to  be  said 
in  its  favor.  Too  much  stress  cannot  be  laid  on  the 
fact  that  memorizing  leads  to  a  closer  study  of  the 
best  music,  a  more  thorough  comprehension  of  it, 
and  a  more  intelligent  appreciation  of  what  it  con- 
tains. 

Then,  too,  this  practice  has  an  important  influence 
on  technique,  in  that  "it  leads  to  ascertaining  more 
and  more  perfectly  the  precise  points  of  difficulty 
which  hinder  the  easy  performance  of  a  given  pass- 
age." Difficulties  are  often  overcome  by  memorizing 
the  passage  in  which  they  occur;  in  all  cases  they  are 
very  much  diminished.  When  the  mind  knows  clear- 
ly and  certainly  where  it  desires  to  carry  the  musical 
thought,  the  fingers  manage  to  perform  their  part. 
We  have  before  pointed  out  the  necessity  of  having 
thought  behind  the  fingers  in  order  that  the  fingers 
may  do  their  work  to  the  best  advantage,  and  here 
now  this  doctrine  finds  both  its  application  and  illus- 
tration. We  know  how  important  technique  is  in 
playing.  But  the  best  technique  is  that  which  springs 
from  clear  musical  thought,  from  a  mind  well  stored 
with  accurate  knowledge  and  a  heart  overflowing 
with  tender  emotion.  In  order  to  make  use  of 
thought  and  feeling  in  the  act  of  playing  it  is  much 


better  if  the  music  has  been  memorized  so  that  all  of 
the  attention  may  be  fixed  on  the  contents  of  the  piece. 

In  the  way  of  correct  musical  perception  and  the 
formation  of  a  right  musical  style  much  could  be  said 
in  favor  of  memorizing.  "A  Bach  fugue  cannot 
possibly  be  well  played  without  memorizing  until 
after  the  pupil  has  acquired  a  great  deal  of  experience 
in  this  class  of  music;  and  even  then  the  performance 
of  any  fugue  will  be  greatly  improved  by  memorizing. 
It  will  not  be  necessary  to  do  much  criticism,  if  the 
piece  is  studied  by  a  fairly  competent  pupil;  merely 
memorizing  and  the  influence  of  the  music  itself  will 
transform  the  playing  and  render  it  definite  and 
effective.  Such  style-forming  pieces  as  the  Chopin 
Etudes  must  also  be  memorized,  if  we  want  their  full 
effect.  Pleasing  pieces  at  all  stages  of  the  progress 
are  memorized  for  the  convenience  of  having  them 
handy  when  one  wants  to  play  them;  and  for  the  ad- 
ditional reason  that  this  is  part  of  the  process  of 
completely  learning  them." 

Without  this  thorough  acquaintance  with  a  piece 
of  classic  music  involved  in  the  act  of  memorizing  it, 
the  pupil  is  apt  to  have  a  poor  perception  of  its 
beauties,  and  his  style  of  execution  will  be  corre- 
spondingly deficient.  How,  for  instance,  would  an 
actor  get  along  in  the  impersonation  of  Hamlet  or 
Othello  if  he  did  not  memorize  his  part?  Before  he 
can  take  the  first  step  towards  a  good  style  of  acting 
he  must  have  a  keen  perception  of  what  the  piece  con- 
tains in  all  its  relations,  and  this  is  possible  only  by 
having  the  whole  of  it  before  his  mind  at  once.  There 
is  no  other  way  of  getting  into  the  'merits'  of  the 
drama  than  by  thoroughly  memorizing  it  and  then 
studying  each  detail  as  he  sees  the  piece  in  its  entirety 


LIBERTY  OF  PERFORMANCE.  IQI 

before  his  mind.  Before  this  is  done  it  is  not  possible 
for  him  to  shut  out  of  mind  every  other  object,  every 
other  idea,  a  condition  so  necessary  for  the  highest 
degree  of  dramatic  power.  The  tragedian  who  can 
so  throw  himself  into  his  character  or  subject  as  to 
be  oblivious  of  everything  but  that,  is  the  one 
that  is  most  natural  and  therefore  moves  the 
audience  most  powerfully.  It  is  said  of  Mrs.  Siddons 
that  she  was  wont  to  throw  herself  into  the  character 
of  the  person  she  was  representing  to  such  a  degree 
that  she  would  lose  sight  of  her  own  personality, 
would  become  so  completely  engrossed  in  the  part 
she  was  playing,  as  to  be,  for  the  time,  rather  than 
&ct,  the  character  assumed.  The  same  principle  holds 
in  the  performance  of  a  great  piece  of  music,  and  the 
same  reason  for  memorizing  applies.  A  true  style  of 
rendition  cannot  be  otherwise  formed. 

Closely  connected  with  this  is  another  advantage 
of  memorizing  music,  namely,  liberty  of  performance. 
Listen  to  the  words  of  Dr.  Mertz:  "Not  only  does  it 
enable  him  to  afford  pleasure  to  willing  listeners  at 
any  time  or  place,  but  by  playing  or  singing  without 
the  aid  of  notes,  he  is  free,  and  is  thereby  enabled  to 
perform  with  more  liberty  and  sentiment.  The  close 
musical  reader  is  fettered,  a  good  share  of  his  mental 
activity  is  expended  upon  reading  the  notes,  upon 
observing  expression  marks,  while,  if  he  were  free 
from  his  bondage,  he  could  throw  his  whole  soul  into 
the  performance.  The  musician  who  sings  or  plays 
from  memory  is  a  second-hand  improviser,  he  forgets 
self,  he  lives  in  the  music  and  not  in  the  notes  or  in  his 
surroundings.  This  is  the  reason  why  musicians  pre- 
fer to  play  from  memory,  and  it  is  the  lack  of  this 
faculty  that  keeps  so  many  respectable  players  from 


soaring  aloft  on  the  wings  of  their  imaginations. 
The  musician  who  plays  from  memory  is  as  the  bird 
that  flies  unfettered;  the  musician,  however,  who  is 
tied  to  his  notes,  is  as  a  bird  that  is  tied  to  a 
string."* 

A  few  general  hints  may  here  be  given.  All  rules 
and  practical  hints  as  to  musical  memorizing  must 
be  based  on  a  knowledge  of  the  human  mind.  He 
who  would  use  the  mind,  whether  his  own  or  that  of 
his  pupil,  must  know  the  mind.  We  have  seen  that 
the  maximum  of  memory-development  is  reached  at 
the  age  of  about  twelve  to  fourteen  years.  The  memo- 
ry of  youth  is  far  more  vigorous  than  that  of  more 
advanced  years.  It  follows  that  during  this  period 
the  memory  should  receive  special  attention.  The 
best  time  of  the  day  for  memory  work  is  in  the  morn- 
ing, because  then  the  mind  is  free  and  the  brain  sub- 
stance yields  more  readily  to  impressions.  There  is 
sound  practical  wisdom  in  the  German  adage:— 

"Die  Morgenstunde 
Hat  Gold  im  Munde." 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  Define  memory. 

2.  Name  three  elements  involved  in  an  act  of  memory.     Ex- 
plain each. 

3.  Describe  the  physiological  basis  of  memory. 

4.  Explain  the  physical  basis  of  retentiveness. 

5.  What  is  said  of  memory  as  a  faculty  of  the  soul? 

6.  On  what  does  excellence  of  memory  depend? 

7.  What  is  said  of  the  native  persistence  in  different  people? 
Illustrate. 

8.  When  is  the  activity  of  memory  greatest,  and  why? 

*  Mertz,  "Music  and  Culture." 


QUESTIONS.  193 

9.    What  of  the  chad's  acquisitions  in  the  first  five  to  ten  years 
of  its  life? 

10.  When  and  what  is  the  period  of  equilibrium? 

11.  What  of  memory  in  old  age?    Explain. 

12.  On  what  does  facility  of  recall  depend? 

13.  Explain  diagram. 

14.  Give  substance  of  quotation  from  James. 

15.  Show   need   of  coherent   concept-system   in    relation    to 
memory. 

16.  Object  of  referring  to  various  pathologic  cases? 

17.  Give  case  of  Mr.  Tennent,  and  what  does  it  show? 

18.  Give  case  of  Mezzofanti,  and  what  does  it  prove? 

19.  What  does  the  case  of  the  German  servant  girl  illustrate? 
Give  other  similar  cases. 

20.  Give  case  reported  by  Dr.  Abercrombie. 

21.  What  significance  have  these  facts  to  the  psychologist? 

22.  What  is  said  of  the  personal  element  in  memory? 

23.  What  of  varieties  of  memory? 

24.  Give  examples  of  memories  remarkable  for  the  power  of  re- 
calling names. 

25.  Give  examples  of  memories  remarkable  for  remembering 
figures. 

26.  What  does  the  case  of  Magliabechi  illustrate? 

27.  What  is  said  of  Mozart's  memory?    Give  examples. 

28.  Give  example  of  Samuel  Wesley. 

29.  Facts  about  ctiltivation  of  memory. 

30.  Show  importance  of  memory-cultivation. 

31.  Quote  Hering  and  Bain  on  importance  of  memory. 

32.  First  suggestion  for  memory  culture?    Explain. 

33.  Explain  relation  of  blood  circulation  to  memory. 

34.  What  need  of  observing  the  laws  of  hygiene? 

35.  Give  second  suggestion.    Explain. 

36.  Explain  the  visualizing  principle. 

37.  Importance  of  first  impressions?    Explain. 

38.  Quote  Galton  on  the  subject  of  first  impressions. 

39.  State  third  suggestion  for  memory  training.    Explain  the 
principle. 

40.  What  of  order  and  classification  of  ideas? 

41.  Give  example  of  "Betty,"  the  servant  girl.    What  does  it 
show? 

Piyeholoffv.  13 


ig  IMAGINATION. 

42.  What  is  said  of  cramming? 

43.  Fourth  suggestion  for  memory  training? 

44.  Define  attention. 

45.  Show  importance  of  attention. 

46.  Can  the  mind  attend  to  more  than  one  thing  at  a  time? 

47.  Quote  remark  of  Isaac  Newton. 

48.  Fact  about  imbeciles  and  idiots? 

49.  Explain  the  evil  of  reading  or  playing  mechanically. 

50.  Fifth  suggestion  for  improving  the  memory?    Explain  the 
principle. 

51.  Give  saying  of  Carpenter  and  Ribot. 

52.  Effect  of  practice? 

53.  Explain  the  principle  of  interest.    Illustrate. 

54.  Explain  philosophy  of  illustrations. 

55.  Value  of  parables  and  fables? 

56.  What  of  stories  as  an  educational  agency? 

57.  Substance  of  quotation  from  Nora  Archibald  Smith. 

58.  Explain  pedagogical  value  of  memorizing  music. 

59.  Further  advantage  of  memorizing  music? 

60.  Show  influence  of  memorizing  on  technique. 

61.  Influence  of  memorizing  on  musical  style? 

62.  Explain  reference  to  the  tragedian. 

63.  What  does  Mertz  say  about  liberty  of  performance? 

64.  When  should  memorizing  be  done? 

65.  Why  should  a  piece  be  memorized  at  the  first  study. 


IMAGINATION  AND  MEMORY. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Imagination. 

IMAGINATION  is  that  power  of  mind  by  which  we  form 
I  pictures  of  things  not  present.  It  is  the  power 
of  representing  a  mental  product  as  an  image. 
As  the  name  denotes,  imagination  is  the  image-mak- 
ing, or  image-showing  faculty.  The  Germans  call  it 
Einbildungskraft.  According  to  Krauth  and  Fleming, 
''Vocabulary  of  Philosophy,"  "In  the  language  of 
modern  philosophy,  the  imagination  seems  to  denote 
— first,  the  power  of  apprehending  or  conceiving  ideas, 
simply  as  they  are  in  themselves,  without  any  view 
to  their  reality;  secondly,  the  power  of  combining  into 
new  forms  or  assemblages,  those  thoughts,  ideas,  or 
notions,  which  we  have  derived  from  experience  or 
from  information." 

Relation  to  Memory.  Imagination  stands  in  close  re- 
lation to  memory—  in  fact,  depends  on  memory  for 
its  materials.  Memory  holds  and  brings  back  our 
past  experiences  just  as  they  were  without  any  modi- 
fication. Memory  is  the  faculty  of  unaltered  repro- 
duction, while  imagination  is  the  faculty  of  altered 
reproduction.  Memory  is  the  grand  storehouse  from 
which  imagination  drawrs  the  materials  for  its  strange 
creations.  ' l Memory  retains  and  recalls  the  past  in 
the  form  which  it  assumed  when  it  was  previously  be- 
fore the  mind.  Imagination  brings  up  the  past  in 
new  shapes  and  combinations.  Both  of  them  are  re- 


196  IMAGINATION. 

flective  of  objects;  but  the  one  may  be  compared  to 
the  mirror  which  reflects  whatever  has  been  before  it, 
in  its  proper  form  and  color;  the  other  may  be  likened 
to  the  kaleidoscope  which  reflects  what  is  before  it  in 
an  infinite  variety  of  new  forms  and  dispositions."* 
Or  as  the  poet  puts  it, 

"Music,  when  soft  voices  die, 
Vibrates  in  the  memory; 
Odors,  when  sweet  violets  sicken. 
Live  within  the  sense  they  quicken." 

— SHELLEY. 

In  memory  the  representation  is  judged  to  be  of  a 
past  experience;  in  imagination  it  is  not  so  judged, 
i.  e.,  the  objects  of  memory  are  facts  of  experience; 
those  of  imagination  may  or  may  not  be  facts  of  ex- 
perience, the  question  is  not  considered,  the  represen- 
tation is  in  disregard  of  experience.  "Imagination  is 
productive;  memory  is  merely  reproductive.  The  ob- 
ject represented  in  memory  is  real;  that  represented 
in  imagination  may  be  unreal.  Memory  is  mediate 
knowledge  of  the  actual  in  the  past;  imagination  is 
mediate  knowledge  of  the  possible  in  the  past,  present 
or  future.  Were  this  power  wholly  lacking,  we  should 
be  unable  to  devise  for  the  future,  or  to  anticipate 
and  provide  for  even  the  next  coming  moment.  All 
hope,  all  reasonable  forecast  of  events,  all  inspired 
prophecy,  the  history  of  the  future,  are  wrougnt  out 
by  imagination,  and  then  become  memories  as  time 
flows  by."**  The  following  lines  of  Shelley  mark  the 
distinction: 

"You  are  not  herel    The  quaint  witch  Memory  sees 
In  vacant  chairs,  your  absent  images, 


McCosh,  "Typical  Forms,"  p.  450. 
*  Davis,  "Elements  of  Psychology,"  p.  199. 


CONSTRUCTIVE  IMAGINATION.  197 

And  points  where  once  you  sat,  and  now  should  be, 

But  are  not. — I  demand  that  if  ever  we 

Shall  meet  as  then  we  met; — and  she  replies, 

Veiling  in  awe  her  second-sighted  eyes: 

'I  know  the  past  alone — but  summon  home 

My  sister  Hope,  she  speaks  of  all  to  come.' 

But  I,  an  old  diviner,  who  know  well 

Every  false  verse  of  that  sweet  oracle, 

Turned  to  the  sad  enchantress  once  again, 

And  sought  a  respite  from  my  gentle  pain, 

In  acting  every  passage  o'er  and  o'er 

Of  our  communion." 

—LETTER  TO  MARIA  GISBORNE. 

Memory  furnishes  the  materials— paints,  canvas 
etc. — desire  gives  the  law  or  model,  and  imagination 
paints  the  picture.  Imagination  is  the  power  which 
represents  the  elements  of  knowledge  in  modified 
forms  and  in  new  combinations.  Imagination,  though 
differing,  as  we  have  just  seen,  from  memory,  is  not 
separated  from  memory  by  any  sharp  line  of  de- 
marcation. 

Nature  of  the  Constructive  Imagination.  While  there  are 
several  phases  of  imagination,  we  shall  confine  our- 
selves to  the  constructive  or  creative  phase.  In  what 
sense  is  imagination  creative?  It  never  creates  any 
new  materials — all  the  materials  for  its  workshop  are 
furnished  by  memory.  Its  creations  are  new  combi- 
nations of  old  materials;  in  this  way  it  creates  a 
world  of  its  own  and  peoples  this  new  world  with 
beings  ofttimes  strangely  unreal,  yet  always  interest- 
ing. 

In  its  operations  is  involved  a  double  process  of 
decomposition  and  reconstruction,  of  analysis  and 
synthesis,  of  dissociation  and  recombination.  Dis- 
sociation is  the  antecedent  step  to  imaginative  con- 
struction. Our  concepts  of  things  are  formed  by 


198  IMAGINATION. 

joining  together  various  elements.  In  the  work  of  the 
imagination  we  separate  these  complex  concepts  into 
their  elements,  and  then  we  proceed  to  build  new  com- 
binations out  of  these  elements.  As  the  child  pulls 
its  toys  to  pieces  and  then  out  of  the  fragments 
makes  new  toys  to  please  its  fancy,  so  the  imagina- 
tion deals  with  the  concepts  held  in  memory's  store- 
house. 

The  creations  of  the  inventor,  the  poet,  the  artist, 
the  composer  illustrate  this  process  of  construction. 
Look  at  some  of  the  interesting  objects  which  con- 
stitute the  treasures  of  the  great  world  of  fancy,  and 
how  they  are  made.  From  the  bust  of  a  maiden  and 
the  tail  of  a  fish  a  mermaid  is  constructed;  joining 
the  body  of  a  horse  and  the  head  of  a  man  gives  rise 
to  a  centaur;  the  body  of  a  goat,  the  head  of  a  lion 
and  the  tail  of  a  dragon  make  up  the  fabled  chimtera; 
the  body  of  a  dog,  with  three  heads  and  with  snakes 
for  hair  is  construed  into  cerberus;  the  head  of  a 
beautiful  maiden,  the  body  of  a  vulture,  and  the 
claws  of  an  eagle  constitute  the  harpies;  adding  the 
wings  of  an  eagle  to  the  body  of  a  horse  we  have  the 
famous  Pegasus  of  the  muses  and  poets,  and  so  on 
through  all  the  wealth  of  mythologic  fancy.  Taking 
a  pile  of  stones  and  spreading  over  it  a  growing  vine, 
forms  in  my  imagination  the  picture  of  the  ivy-cov- 
ered ruins  of  some  old  castle.  Thus  is  formed  the 
beautiful  imagery  of  the  poets.  So  Milton  made  the 
wonderful  creations  of  Paradise  Lost;  so  Shakespeare 
shaped  the  "witches"  of  Macbeth,  the  "Caliban"  of 
the  Tempest,  the  fairie  figures  of  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream;  so  Swift  constructed  the  "Lilliputian"  people 
of  Gulliver's  Travels;  so  Burns  made  the  airy  beings 


MODES  OF  IMAGINATION.  199 

of  his  Tarn  O'Shanter;  so  Bunyan  formed  the  charac- 
ters of  his  immortal  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

The  same  process  of  dissociation  and  recombina- 
tion is  illustrated  in  the  play-fancies  of  the  child,  as 
well  as  in  the  superstitious  notions  of  the  savage. 

The  same  thing  is  farther  illustrated  in  the  forma- 
tion of  art  products.  How  is  a  painting  made? 
"The  Last  Judgment"  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  at  Home, 
the  "Sistine  Madonna"  of  Raphael  in  Dresden,  the 
"Paradise"  of  Tintoretto  in  the  Palace  of  the  Doges, 
Venice,  said  to  be  the  largest  oil  painting  in  the 
world  with  a  bewildering  multitude  of  figures,  and 
which  Ruskin  calls  "the  most  precious  thing  that 
Venice  possesses"— how  are  such  pictures  formed? 
By  combining  a  few  simple  elements  of  colors,  shades, 
perspective,  etc.,  on  the  background  of  some  historical 
fact  or  facts.  How  were  the  "Laocoon,"  the  "Apollo 
Belvedere,"  the  "Dying  Gladiator,"  the  "Venus"  of 
Milo  formed?  These  immortal  pieces  were  conceived 
by  the  imagination.  How  was  the  Cathedral  of  St. 
Peter's,  of  Milan,  of  Cologne  made?  If  you  go  to 
Florence,  and,  in  the  house  where  Michael  Angelo 
lived,  view  the  series  of  sketches  which  the  master 
had  made  of  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  you  can  see  how 
the  grand  conception  of  that  magnificent  structure 
grew  step  by  step  in  the  imagination  of  the  master 
architect.  How  does  the  landscape  gardener  proceed 
hi  his  work?  By  combining  herbs,  shrubs,  trees, 
knolls,  valleys,  rocks,  streams,  lakes,  fountains,  ave- 
nues, etc.,  according  to  a  conceived  picture  of  his 
imagination.  So  the  dramatist  constructs  his  plays; 
so  the  musical  composer,  his  melody,  his  sonata,  his 
symphony,  his  opera,  his  oratorio. 


200  IMAGINATION. 

Forms  and  Modes  of  the  Imagination.  Several  forms  of 
the  imaginative  faculty  must  be  distinguished.  First, 
we  name  what  may  be  called  the  sense-imagination. 
This  stands  in  the  functions  of  sense  as  the  higher 
modes  stand  in  the  functions  of  intellect  and  reason. 
The  working  of  the  imagination  in  the  domain  of  the 
senses  is  precisely  similar  to  that  of  the  aesthetic  and 
rational  imagination.  The  phenomena  of  phantasy 
are  to  be  grouped  here,  and  afford  the  best  illustra- 
tion of  the  sense-imagination.  The  phantasy  makes 
its  images  severed  from  the  relations  of  time,  place 
and  previous  perceptions.  The  mind  acts  capricious- 
ly, without  regard  to  truth,  or  reality.  The  judgment 
has  little  to  do  in  the  process;  the  sense  dominates 
everything  in  the  flow  of  ideas. 

Phantasy  is  the  native  energy  of  the  soul  by  which 
its  past  experiences  are  represented  as  fancies.  When 
we  are  resting,  this  mode  of  soul  action  manifests  it- 
self in  the  form  of  reverie;  when  we  are  asleep,  in  the 
form  of  dreams.  In  childhood,  fancy  makes  the  stick 
a  horse  and  the  fairy  tale  a  reality.  It  fills  the 
drunkard's  boots  with  snakes,  changes  the  demented 
woman  into  Queen  Victoria,  and  leads  the  somnam- 
bulist to  act  his  dreams.  It  is  also  called  involuntary 
imagination.  As  such  it  is  spontaneous,  instinctive; 
actuated  by  desire  without  intelligent  choice.  The 
phantoms  that  fright  us  in  the  dark,  spectral  voices 
that  we  hear,  the  odd,  ludicrous  and  absurd  ideas 
that  stream  through  our  minds  may  be  mentioned  as 
examples.  Dreams  are  phantasms,  involuntary  or 
sense  memories— new  combinations,  "wherein  blind 
phantasy  would  fain  interpret  to  the  mind  the  painful 
sensations  of  distempered  sleep."  Reverie,  castle-build- 
ing, or  day-dreaming  is  a  mild  and  pleasing  form  of 


DAY-DREAMING.  2OI 

phantasy.  "The  craze  of  delirium  and  of  monomania 
are  extreme  cases.  In  reverie  the  imagination  suffers 
but  little  restraint.  Images  assemble,  form,  and  dis- 
solve, not  so  much  at  will,  as  at  pleasure.  In  phan- 
tasy, the  will  resigns  control,  and  the  disordered  sen- 
sations, together  with  appetites  and  other  forms  of 
desire,  impelling  blindly  in  the  general  torpor  of  in- 
telligence, arouse  imagination  to  unchecked  extrav- 
agance." 
As  Milton  says, 

"When  nature  rests, 
Oft  in  her  absence  mimic  fancy  wakes 
Wild  work  produces  oft,  and  most  in  dreams, 
111  matching  words  and  deeds  long  past  or  late." 

"It  is  remarkable  that  the  power  of  self-control 
seems  to  have  so  little  reserve  force  that  it  is  the  first 
of  our  faculties  to  break  down,  not  only  in  our  sleep, 
but  in  grief,  in  intoxication,  in  fever,  in  case  of  a  stun- 
ning blow,  etc.  Other  faculties  continue  active  when 
this  has  completely  succumbed.  The  torpor  of  voli- 
tion during  sleep  is  an  important  element  in  explain- 
ing the  phenomena  of  dreaming."* 

Imagination  proper  is  purposed  and  directed  effort, 
but  phantasy  goes  on  without  purpose  and  without 
direction.  The  former  is  work,  the  latter  is  play. 
Phantasy  is  to  the  imagination  what  the  kaleidoscope 
is  to  the  designer;  it  gives  suggestions  which  the 
imagination  may  work  up  in  higher  forms. 

The  state  known  as  day-dreaming  may  serve  to 
illustrate.  "Thebody  is  at  ease,  the  will  and  judgment 
are  almost  passive,  images  come  and  go  at  pleasure 
and  are  viewed  as  the  figures  of  a  panorama  without 
effort  to  define,  locate,  or  explain  them.  In  sleep 

*  Davis,  "Elements  of  Psychology." 


202  IMAGINATION. 

when  the  mind  is  shut  off  from  communication  with 
the  external  world  and  from  any  correct  knowledge 
of  bodily  conditions,  images  alone  may  be  objects  of 
consciousness  and  may  come  and  go  uncontrolled  by 
the  judgment." 

In  soundest  sleep  and  even  in  delirium  we  are  aware 
of  our  dreams  and  of  ourselves  as  viewing  the  pano- 
rama. The  sense- world  may  fade  away,  but  self  never 
ceases  to  be  conscious  of  its  own  acts.  While  we  are 
aware  of  our  acts,  our  dreams  seem  to  us  to  be  objec- 
tive realities.  We  do  not  recognize  the  memories  that 
are  woven  into  our  dreams  as  former  experiences,  nor 
are  we  aware  that  these  fancies  are  products  of  our 
own  minds.  The  ground  for  this  is  found  in  associa- 
tion of  the  materials  out  of  which  our  fancies  are 
made.  In  phantasy  we  dissociate  our  experiences, 
and  then  recombine  them  into  new  forms.  As  thus 
changed  we  do  not  recognize  them  as  past  experi- 
ences, but  look  upon  them  as  new  experiences.  Our 
phantasies  are  not  usually  remembered  because  we 
have  not  given  them  sufficient  attention  to  make 
perceptible  paths  in  the  brain  substance. 

The  phantasy  works  under  certain  limitations:  (1) 
We  can  put  into  our  fancies  only  our  experiences. 
The  blind,  that  is,  those  born  blind,  put  no  color  into 
their  fancies.  Adults  who  lost  their  hearing  before 
the  fifth  year,  it  is  said,  put  no  sound  into  their  dream 
images.  (2)  Phantasy  deals  only  with  the  concrete, 
viz..  sense-percepts,  self-percepts,  and  necessary  per- 
cepts. Abstract  concepts  are  not  used  in  our  fancies 
and  dreams. 

To  this  may  be  added  that  our  fancies  and  dreams 
depend  largely  upon  ourselves.  Our  waking  life  to  a 
great  extent  determines  our  dream  life.  Good  diges- 


WORK  OF  PHANTASY.  203 

tion,  regular  habits,  physical  comfort,  an  hour  or 
two  of  bodily  and  mental  rest,  and  a  conscience  void 
of  offense  are  the  conditions  of  sound  sleep  and 
pleasant  dreams.  If  our  reading,  our  associations, 
our  thoughts  and  feelings  are  habitually  pure  and 
elevated,  our  dreams,  our  fancies  are  likely  to  be 
peaceful  and  pleasant. 

While  our  other  powers  are  least  active,  phantasy 
is  most  active.  Memory  supplies  the  materials;  the 
laws  of  association  determine  the  particular  course 
in  which  the  stream  of  ideas  flows.  "When  thought 
is  slightly  active,  our  dreams  become  arguments. 
When  imagination  (i.  e.,  in  its  higher  form)  is  some- 
what active,  our  reveries  and  dreams  become  inven- 
tions, plans,  romances.  When  our  affections  are 
slightly  active,  our  dreams  become  love  scenes.  When 
will  is  sufficiently  active,  we  act  our  dreams.  When 
memory  is  slightly  active,  we  remember  our  dreams." 

In  childhood  the  work  of  phantasy  is  particularly 
marked.  The  baby  weaves  its  little  joys  and  griefs 
into  its  dreams:  now  it  laughs,  and  now  it  weeps  in 
its  sleep.  The  play  instinct  of  childhood  is  a  thing  of 
sense  and  phantasy.  Watch  the  little  ones  at  play, 
and  see  how  they  weave  into  their  plays  the  things 
which  have  come  into  their  experiences.  Fairy-land 
seems  reality  to  the  child,  and  fairy  stories  give  him 
unbounded  pleasure.  The  incidents  of  these  stories 
affect  children  in  just  the  same  way  as  realities  affect 
adults.  Saint  Nick,  too,  is  reality.  We  were  sorry 
when  we  found  out  that  Santa  Glaus  was  not  reality: 
long  after  that  we  were  still  fond  of  hanging  up  our 
stockings  and  placing  our  caps  for  Christmas  pres- 
ents. We  think  it  is  almost  cruel  to  dispel  the  sweet 
delusion.  Child  literature  is  based  on  the  activity  of 


204  IMAGINATION. 

phantasy.  The  illusions  fade  out  as  years  advance, 
but  in  childhood  they  served  a  good  purpose. 

Physiological  Basis  of  Phantasy.  "Sensations,  once  ex- 
perienced, modify  the  nervous  organism,  so  that  copies 
of  them  arise  again  in  the  mind  after  the  original  out- 
ward stimulus  is  gone.  No  mental  copy  can  arise  in 
the  mind,  of  any  kind  of  sensation  which  has  never 
been  directly  excited  from  without." 

The  blind  may  dream  of  sights,  the  deaf  of  sounds, 
for  years  after  they  have  lost  their  vision  or  hearing; 
but  the  man  born  deaf  can  never  be  made  to  imagine 
what  sound  is  like,  nor  can  the  man  born  blind  ever 
have  a  mental  vision.  In  Locke's  words,  'The  mind 
can  frame  unto  itself  no  one  new  simple  idea.'  The 
originals  of  them  all  must  have  been  given  from  with- 
out. Phantasy,  or  imagination,  are  the  names  given 
to  the  faculty  of  reproducing  copies  of  originals  once 
felt.  The  imagination  is  called  'reproductive'  when 
the  copies  are  literal;  'productive' when  elements  from 
different  originals  are  recombined  so  as  to  make  new 
wholes. 

"After-images  belong  to  sensation  rather  than  to 
imagination;  so  that  the  most  immediate  phenomena 
of  imagination  would  seem  to  be  those  tardier  im- 
ages, which  are  due  to  what  the  Germans  call  Sinnes- 
gedachtniss,  —  coercive  hauntings  of  the  mind  by 
echoes  of  unusual  experiences  for  hours  after  the  lat- 
ter have  taken  place.  The  phenomena  ordinarily 
ascribed  to  imagination,  however,  are  those  mental 
pictures  of  possible  sensible  experiences,  to  which  the 
ordinary  processes  of  associative  thought  give  rise." 
—James. 

Prof.  Jastrow  has  ascertained  that  if  blindness 
occurs  before  the  period  embraced  between  the  fifth 


PHYSIOLOGICAL  BASIS.  205 

and  seventh  years  the  visual  centers  seem  to  decay, 
and  visual  dreams  and  images  are  gradually  out- 
grown. If  sight  is  lost  after  the  seventh  year,  visual 
imagination  seems  to  survive  through  life.* 

Prof.  Joseph  Baldwin  says:  "During  repose,  when 
phantasy  is  most  active,  the  blood-supply  to  the 
cerebrum  is  greatly  reduced.  Perception  and  thought 
and  will  are  slightly  active  and  the  exhausted  brain 
recuperates,  self  drifts.  Gentle  sensor  excitations  and 
present  ideas  suggest  other  experiences.  Self,  without 
purpose  and  without  plan,  goes  on  linking  fancy  to 
fancy.  This  is  scribbling,  not  writing;  this  is  the 
child's  daubing,  not  the  artist  painting.  This  is  the 
whirlwind  piling  up  the  timbers,  not  the  architect 
constructing  the  mansion."** 

Imagination  Proper.  We  come  now  to  the  imagina- 
tion proper,  above  and  distinct  from  its  sense-connec- 
tions and  sense-complications.  Imagination  in  this 
sense  is  purposive  and  voluntary,  fully  within  the 
province  of  will,  and  proceeding  in  the  light  of  con- 
sciousness. It  is  the  soul's  capability  to  transform 
the  real  into  the  ideal,  or  to  clothe  the  ideal  in  the 
dress  of  the  real.  Out  of  material  realities  the  im- 
agination creates  ideals.  Out  of  my  experiences,  my 
knowledge  and  observation  of  building  materials, 
architectural  designs,  forms  of  nature,  etc.,  I  create 
an  ideal  cottage.  Imagination  modifies  experiences, 
rearranges  them,  analyzes  them,  and  makes  new 
wholes.  Imagination  makes  models,  constructs  hy- 
potheses, forms  systems,  creates  poems.  Realities, 


*  See  article  on  "Dreams  of  the  Blind,"  in  the  New  Princeton 
Review,  Jan.,  '88. 

**  Baldwin,  Psychology  Applied  to  the  Art  of  Teaching." 


206  IMAGINATION. 

touched  by  the  magic  wand  of  imagination,  become 
ideals. 

Physiological  Basis.  Imagination,  like  memory,  habit, 
and  association,  rests  on  brain  action  and  is  inti- 
mately connected  with  neural  processes.  In  general, 
we  think  that  all  mental  activities  have  their  con- 
comitant brain  and  nerve  action.  There  are  many 
facts  drawn  from  general  life  and  from  observations 
in  the  psychological  laboratory  which  go  to  show  be- 
yond a  doubt  that  imagination  is  grounded  in  physi- 
ology. For  example,  if  the  inner  organ  of  sight  is 
destroyed,  it  is  impossible  to  imagine  scenes.  Ferrier 
says:  "The  destruction  of  the  sight  centre  not  only 
makes  the  individual  blind  presentatively,  but  blind 
also  representatively  or  ideally,  and  all  cognitions 
into  which  visual  characters  enter  in  part  or  whole 
become  mangled  and  imperfect,  or  are  utterly  rooted 
out  of  consciousness."* 

Every  effort  of  imagination  has  corresponding  to 
it  a  molecular  movement  of  the  brain  substance.  Im- 
aged activity  tends  strongly  to  go  out  into  real 
activity;  we  suit  the  action  to  the  thought.  When 
we  form  a  mental  image  of  a  leap,  our  muscles  are  in 
a  state  of  tension  and  we  are  ready  to  spring;  when 
we  go  over  a  speech  mentally,  we  are  prone  to  speak 
it  aloud;  when  we  think  of  a  tune,  we  are  apt  to  hum 
it;  a  feigned  blow  causes  us  to  start  or  dodge,  etc. 
Similar  to  these  phenomena  are  many  varieties  of  in- 
voluntary gesticulations  and  facial  expression.  Men- 
tal stimuli  produce  brain  excitation;  so  also  recipro- 
cally, brain  changes  as  cause  may  produce  mental 
images  as  effects.  Certain  cell  movements  taking 


*Ferrier,  "Functions  of  the  Brain.' 


SCIENTIFIC  IMAGINATION.  2O? 

place  in  the  nerve  centers  confusedly  along  lines  of 
preference  established  by  habit,  may  determine  or 
cause  a  succession  of  corresponding  mental  images  in 
more  or  less  confusion  and  disorder. 

Hence  physical  appetites,  as  hunger  and  thirst, 
often  direct  and  color  our  dreams.  The  man  perish- 
ing of  cold  fancies  himself  wrapped  in  warm  blankets 
or  seated  in  a  comfortable  room;  a  starving  man 
dreams  of  abundance  of  food;  the  wanderer  on  the 
desert  dying  of  thirst  has  visions  of  flowing  streams. 
Hence,  also,  the  subjective  effects  of  brain  fever,  and 
the  wildly  delightful  and  extravagant  visions  of  the 
opium  eater.* 

Shakespeare  says: 

"Lovers  and  madmen  have  such  seething  brains, 
Such  shaking  phantasies,  that  apprehend 
More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends." 

— "Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  V:  Sec.  1. 

All  these  are  cases  of  neural  disturbances  determin- 
ing mental  images. 

Modes  of  Activity.  Several  distinct  modes  of  the  im- 
agination are  to  be  noted. 

First,  the  Scientific  Imagination.  This  is  also  called 
"reflective,"  "deliberative"  (Aristotle),  "philosophic," 
etc.  It  is  especially  related  to  thought  in  the  search 
for  knowledge.  "Regardless  of  sentiment,  it  seeks 
neither  the  beautiful  nor  the  sublime,  but  driven  by 
desire  to  know,  it  labors  after  truth,  which,  when 
ascertained,  it  strives  to  represent  with  clearness  and 
fullness."  It  is  occupied  with  hypotheses,  and  seeks 
to  image  conceivable  possibilities  concerning  the 
subject  in  hand.  In  the  scientific  imagination  inven- 

*De  Quincey,  "Confessions  of  an  English  Opium  Eater." 


208  IMAGINATION. 

tions  and  discoveries  being.  When  Hargreaves  upset 
his  wife's  spinning  wheel,  his  imagination  saw  in  the 
vertical  revolving  spindle  the  ideal  of  the  spinning- 
jenny.  In  the  lifting  of  the  tea-kettle  lid,  Watt  saw 
the  principle  of  the  steam  engine.  In  the  swinging 
chandelier  of  the  Cathedral  at  Pisa,  Galileo  saw  the 
principle  of  the  pendulum,  and  the  world  excuses  his 
apparent  lack  of  devotion  on  that  occasion  when  it 
remembers  the  results  that  have  come  from  that 
discovery.  In  the  falling  apple  Newton  imaged  a 
world  dominated  by  the  law  of  gravitation.  In  the 
kite  raised  into  the  face  of  the  thunder  cloud,  Franklin 
saw  a  shining  highway  to  the  wonder-land  of  electricity 
and  from  it  received  the  communication  of  a  truth 
which  has  revolutionized  modern  life. 

The  scientific  imagination  affords  important  aid 
to  the  experimenter  in  science.  Before  effects  are  con- 
nected with  causes  the  imagination  must  explore  the 
field  and  find  the  possible  connection.  Imagination 
is  like  the  scouts  that  an  army  sends  on  ahead  to  spy 
out  the  land,  and  report  a  possible  route  of  progress 
through  the  unknown  country.  It  also  brings  its 
fine  clusters  of  grapes  from  the  brook  Eschol  to  in- 
spire and  encourage  the  halting  army  of  invasion. 
Imagination  marks  out  the  path  in  which  scientific 
progress  should  move,  and  also  affords  the  incentive 
for  progress. 

Sir  Benjamin  Brodie,  once  president  of  the  Royal 
Society,  said:  "Physical  investigation,  more  than 
anything  else  besides,  helps  to  teach  us  the  actual 
value  and  right  use  of  the  imagination — of  that  won- 
drous faculty,  which,  when  left  to  ramble  uncontrol- 
led, leads  us  astray  into  a  wilderness  of  perplexities 
and  errors,  a  land  of  mists  and  shadows;  but  which, 


AESTHETIC  IMAGINATION.  2OQ 

properly  controlled  by  experience  and  reflection,  be- 
comes the  noblest  attribute  of  man,  the  source  of 
poetic  genius,  the  instrument  of  discovery  in  science, 
without  che  aid  of  which  Newton  would  never  have 
invented  fluxions  nor  Davy  have  decomposed  the 
earths  and  alkalies,  nor  would  Columbus  have  found 
another  continent." 

Prof.  Tyndall  says:  "Philosophers  may  be  right 
in  affirming  that  we  cannot  transcend  experience;  but 
we  can  at  all  events  carry  it  a  long  way  from  its 
origin.  We  can  also  magnify,  dimmish,  qualify,  and 
combine  experiences,  so  as  to  render  them  fit  for  pur- 
poses entirely  new.  We  are  gifted  with  the  power  of 
imagination,  and  by  this  power  we  can  lighten  the 
darkness  which  surrounds  the  world  of  the  senses. 
There  are  tories,  even  in  science,  who  regard  imagina- 
tion as  the  faculty  to  be  feared  and  avoided  rather 
than  employed.  They  had  observed  its  action  in 
weak  vessels,  and  were  unduly  impressed  by  its  disas- 
ters. But  they  might  with  equal  truth  point  to  ex- 
ploded boilers  as  an  argument  against  the  use  of 
steam.  Bounded  and  conditioned  by  cooperant  rea- 
son, imagination  becomes  the  mightiest  instrument 
of  the  physical  discoverers.  Newton's  passage  from 
a  falling  apple  to  a  falling  moon  was,  at  the  outset, 
a  leap  of  the  imagination." 

Secondly,  the  Aesthetic  Imagination.  This  mode  of 
the  imagination  is  also  called  artistic.  Its  end  is  not 
knowledge,  as  in  the  scientific  imagination,  but  beau- 
ty. It  singles  out  elements  in  nature  and  in  the  store- 
house of  memory,  which  satisfy  the  sense  of  the  beau- 
tiful, and  out  of  this  it  constructs  its  ideal  complexes. 
It  pays  little  regard  to  the  realizable,  because  its  end 

Psychology  1& 


210  IMAGINATION. 

is  aesthetic  pleasure;  if  its  creations  please,  what 
matters  it  whether  they  can  be  realized  or  not?  The 
aesthetic  imagination  frames  for  itself,  and  lives  in,  a 
world  of  ideal  beauty.  It  is  accompanied  by  lively 
emotion;  its  forms  are  more  instantaneous  and  also 
more  inexplicable  because  they  arise  from  an  emo- 
tional stimulus.  Hence,  great  artists  are  generally 
persons  of  emotional  temperament. 

The  realm  of  the  aesthetic  imagination  is  the  fine 
arts.  All  the  great  works  of  art  from  ancient  times 
down  to  the  present  have  been  created  by  imagina- 
tion. The  masterpieces  of  painting,  sculpture,  archi- 
tecture, poetry,  and  music  are  products  of  aesthetic 
imagination.  The  Venus  of  Milo  was  first  seen  by  the 
imagination  in  the  rough  block  of  marble  long  before 
the  sculptor's  chisel  released  the  beautiful  angel-form 
from  its  sepulchre.  The  Cathedral  at  Milan,  "that 
magnificent  poem  in  stone,"  had  its  origin  in  the 
architect's  imagination.  The  finest  poetry  is  the 
work  of  imagination.  Hence,  the  higher  degree  of 
artistic  imagination  is  sometimes  called  the  poetic 
imagination.  This  it  is  that  makes  the  beauties  of 
literature  and  peoples  the  literary  world  with  its 
strange  and  interesting  figures.  It  is  the  orator's 
powerful  instrument,  the  magic  wand  with  which  he 
sways  the  thoughts  and  feelings  and  passions  of  his 
audience  at  his  will.  Music  is  a  fairy  kingdom  in 
which  the  aesthetic  imagination  conceives  some  of  its 
most  charming  ideals  and  displays  the  wonders  of  its 
creative  power. 

The  aesthetic  imagination  works  by  the  aid  of 
ideals.  An  ideal  is  a  mental  conception  regarded  as  a 
standard  of  perfection,  a  model  of  highest  excellence. 
Ideals  are  creations  of  the  mind,  as  over  against  real- 


LIMITED  TO  EXPERIENCE.  211 

ities,  which  exist  independent  of  the  mind.  An  ideal 
is  a  working  model,  the  harmonious  blending  into 
one  mental  product,  of  the  idea  and  the  object.  We 
fashion  our  ideals  out  of  the  qualities  and  character- 
istics which  we  observe  in  men  and  things.  In  the 
formation  of  an  ideal  of  character,  for  example,  the 
first  step  consists  in  studying  the  lives  of  illustrious 
men.  The  next  step  is  to  separate  the  complex  whole 
into  its  elements  and  select  the  most  worthy  qualities 
and  combine  these  into  an  ideal.  These  models  of 
beauty  and  perfection  of  form,  of  harmony,  of  pro- 
portion then  stand  forth  as  guides  in  our  striving  for 
perfection;  our  lives  then  are  a  series  of  efforts  to 
realize  our  ideals.  The  ideal  is  ever  something  yet  to 
be  won, — the  possible  waiting  to  be  made  real  in 
effort,— the  latent  waiting  to  be  revealed  in  action,— 
the  prophetic  waiting  to  be  fulfilled  in  earnest  endeav- 
ors for  the  attainment  of  the  highest  good. 

These  ideals  are  formed,  not  capriciously,  but 
according  to  the  principles  of  reason.  The  reason  has 
its  pure  forms,  and  the  making  of  ideals  is  but  the 
filling  in  of  these  pure  forms  by  means  of  concrete  ma- 
terials gathered  by  experience  and  held  by  the  mem- 
ory. Knowing  the  place  which  our  ideals  occupy  in 
our  lives,  we  can  judge  the  importance  of  having  the 
highest  and  best  ideals.  This  is  what  Emerson  meant 
by  the  startling  expression,  "Hitch  your  wagon  to  a 
star."  "As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he"— i. 
e.,  as  our  ideals,  so  are  we,  for  these  are  ever  striving 
to  realize  themselves  in  our  outward  life,  and  so  most 
profoundly  shape  our  character. 

The  Limits  of  Imagination.  The  imagination  creates 
its  world  of  beauty  within  certain  limits.  The  first 
and  most  important  is  that  of  experience.  Although 


IMAGINATION. 


in  one  sense  it  disregards  experience,  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  cannot  transcend  experience.  Imagination 
must  depend  on  memory.  In  its  highest  power,  in 
its  utmost  flights,  its  images  are  but  combinations 
of  partial  experiences  given  by  memory;  it  creates  no 
new  materials,  it  is  only  the  particular  combination 
that  is  new.  Says  one,  "Experience  is  the  quarry 
whence  memory  draws  the  materials  with  which  im- 
agination (Einbildungskraft)  builds." 

"All  presentations,  external  and  internal,  all  sensa- 
tions, emotions,  desires,  affections,  volitions,  and 
thoughts  furnish,  through  memory,  materials  for  im- 
agination. Whatever  can  be  remembered  can  be 
idealized."  It  follows  from  this  that  our  ideal  world 
will  be  fashioned  according  to  our  actual  sense- world 
and  thought-world.  The  elements  in  which  we  live 
will  determine  the  forms  of  our  imaginary  creations. 
Since  the  greater  part  of  our  sense-life  is  occupied 
with  visual  objects,  our  ideal  world  is  filled  predom- 
inantly with  visual  images,  i.  e.,  of  things  seen. 
Auditory  images,  though  numerous,  are  yet  far  less 
common  than  visual  images. 

Our  imaginary  creations  are  but  the  reflex  of  our 
personal  experience.  If  we  live  in  a  low  and  sensual 
sphere  our  imaginations  will  be  of  a  kind  to  corre- 
spond. To  the  Indian,  heaven  is  a  happy  hunting 
ground,  where  game  never  fails,  and  where  he  shall 
again  have  his  faithful  dog,  his  bows  and  arrows, 
and  his  wampum.  To  him  the  Indian  summer  haze 
is  the  smoke  from  the  Great  Spirit's  peace-pipe. 

This  principle  has  important  application  to  the 
music  student.  What  shall  be  the  character  of  your 
musical  ideals?  That  will  depend  upon  your  musical 
experience,— the  kind  of  music  you  hear  and  play,  the 


IMPORTANCE  OF  IMAGINATION.  213 

musical  atmosphere  in  which  you  live,  the  compan- 
ions you  associate  with  daily.  If  you  live  in  a  low 
musical  sphere  your  musical  ideals  will  be  low.  Strive 
to  set  up  and  maintain  a  high  standard.  Cultivate 
acquaintance  with  the  masters.  Avoid  the  trashy 
and  showy  kind.  Musical  culture  consists  in  knowing 
and  associating  with  the  best.  The  brilliant  is  of 
low  value  and  in  the  end  serves  only  to  display  self. 
It  is  in  music  as  in  dress,  the  flashy  and  showy  is 
always  a  mark  of  uncultivated  taste.  Be  sure  you 
have  your  experience  with  deep  and  true  music.  As 
we  get  better  acquainted  with  it,  we  find  it  more  and 
more  interesting,  it  always  has  something  new  to  say 
to  us.  We  go  to  it  again  and  again,  and  we  always 
get  new  meanings,  which  inspire  and  elevate  our 
thoughts.  As  our  acquaintance  grows  and  our  taste 
improves,  the  truly  classic  music  yields  new  beauties. 

The  principle  we  are  urging  has  important  educa- 
tional consequences.  Remember  our  ideals  depend  on 
our  experience.  As  the  stock  of  our  ideas,  so  will  be 
our  imaginary  creations.  Here  also  it  is  true  that 
the  stream  does  not  rise  higher  than  its  source. 

The  imagination  is  further  limited  to  theindividual 
and  the  concrete.  We  form  no  images  of  the  general 
and  abstract.  The  object  immediately  present  to 
the  imagination  is  an  individual.  Then,  too,  our 
imaginary  creations  must  conform  to  rational  princi- 
ples. Those  general  principles  of  mind  which  condi- 
tion thought  in  all  departments  are  equally  operative 
in  the  working  of  the  imagination.  For  example,  we 
cannot  imagine  a  body  not  contained  in  space  and 
yet  occupying  space,  nor  an  effect  without  a  cause, 
nor  that  a  thing  can  be  and  not  be  at  the  same  time, 
etc.  Imagination  cannot  go  beyond  the  necessary 


214  IMAGINATION. 

principles  which  govern  all  the  thinking  processes  of 
the  reason. 

The  Influence  and  Importance  of  Imagination.  The  imag- 
ination has  wonderful  power  both  over  mind  and 
body,  in  society  and  the  state,  in  morals  and  religion, 
in  general  life.  "Imagination,"  said  Napoleon,  "rules 
the  world."  And  Prof.  Baldwin  says:  "Imagination 
is  a  master  power,  commanding  all  our  other  capa- 
bilities. Memory,  from  our  stores  of  experiences,  sup- 
plies imagination  with  materials.  Will  contributes 
purpose  and  concentrated  and  sustained  effort. 
Emotion  gives  wings  to  imagination.  Thought  con- 
tributes discretion  and  law.  Imagination  is  the  mas- 
ter-builder, and  our  other  powers  are  the  cooperating 
workmen." 

First,  Its  Mental  and  Bodily  Effects.  Facts  of  common 
experience  and  observation  furnish  many  instructive 
examples.  The  witchcraft  craze,  belief  in  pow-wow- 
ing,  magnetic  healing,  Christian  science,  patent  medi- 
cines, charms,  hypochondriasis,  and  all  the  supersti- 
tions of  life  are  so  many  instances  of  the  power  of 
imagination.  Certain  special  cases  are  particularly 
interesting.  Halleck  gives  the  following: 

A  fussy  man  at  breakfast  would  insist  that  the 
cream  for  his  gruel  was  sour,  made  much  trouble  in 
sending  out  for  a  fresh  supply.  Finally,  his  wife  told 
the  servant  to  keep  some  of  the  same  cream  outside, 
and  to  bring  that  in  whenever  there  were  complaints 
— the  new  supply  always  seemed  much  better. 

Prof.  Bennett,  of  Edinburgh  University,  mentions  a 
case  reported  to  him  by  the  chemist  who  had  wit- 
nessed it.  A  butcher,  working  in  the  market  of  Edin- 
burgh, was  in  the  act  of  hanging  a  heavy  piece  of 
meat  on  a  sharp  hook,  when  his  foot  slipped  and  he 


MENTAL  AND  BODILY  EFFECTS.  215 

was  caught  by  the  arm  and  hung  suspended  in  the 
greatest  anguish.  He  was  taken  down  and  carried 
across  to  a  chemist's  shop,  where  the  case  was  at 
once  attended  to  as  one  of  urgency.  The  surgeon 
proceeded  to  cut  open  the  sleeve  of  the  man's  coat, 
the  sufferer  crying  out  in  great  agony  as  this  was 
done;  yet,  when  the  arm  was  exposed,  it  was  found 
that  the  skin  had  not  even  been  scratched. 

Dr.  Noble  records  a  similar  case  in  the  experience  of 
M.  Boutibonne,  a  literary  man,  who  served  in  Napo- 
leon's army,  and  was  engaged  at  the  battle  of  Wa- 
gram,  which  resulted  in  a  treaty  of  peace  with 
Austria  in  November,  1809.  Towards  sunset,  when 
reloading  his  musket,  he  was  shot  down  by  a  cannon 
ball.  He  felt  as  if  the  greater  part  of  both  legs  had 
been  carried  away  and  all  night  he  lay  helpless,  not 
daring  to  move,  lest  he  should  bleed  to  death.  At 
early  dawn  a  medical  officer  came  to  his  help.  To 
the  question,  "What's  the  matter,  my  comrade?"  M. 
Boutibonne  replied,  "Oh,  touch  me  gently,  I  beseech 
you;  a  cannon  ball  has  carried  away  my  legs!"  The 
doctor  examined  his  legs,  and  with  a  laugh,  bade  him 
get  up  as  there  was  nothing  wrong,  when  the  sufferer 
leaped  to  his  feet  in  amazement.  The  cannon  ball 
had  carried  away  the  ground  underneath  his  feet, 
and  he  had  fallen  into  a  trench  which  had  been 
suddenly  opened.* 

A  man  sentenced  to  bleed  to  death,  was  blindfolded; 
a  harmless  incision  was  then  made  in  his  arm  and 
tepid  water  fixed  so  as  to  run  down  the  arm  and  drop 
with  considerable  noise  into  a  basin.  The  attendants 
frequently  commented  on  the  flow  of  blood  and  the 

*Tuke,  "Influence  of  Mind  upon  the  Body." 


2l6  IMAGINATION. 

weakening  pulse.  The  criminal's  false  idea  of  what 
was  taking  place  was  as  powerful  in  its  effects  as  the 
reality  and  he  soon  died. 

"A  person  imagining  that  he  is  suffering  from  dis- 
ease of  the  heart,  and  frequently  directing  his  atten- 
tion to  the  movement  of  that  organ,  may  produce 
disease  where  originally  there  was  none;  and,  in  like 
manner,  we  are  told  that  "the  idea  that  a  structural 
defect  will  certainly  be  removed  by  a  certain  act  in- 
creases the  organic  action  of  the  part,  and  sometimes 
produces  a  cure." — Dr.  J.  Miiller. 

These  phenomena  are  explicable  on  physiological 
principles.  Imagination  fixes  the  attention,  and  the 
attention  strongly  directed  to  any  part  or  organ  of 
the  body  may  produce  congestion  or  disease  in  the 
organ. 

"When  the  attention  is  directed  to  any  part  of  the 
body,  innervation  and  circulation  are  excited  locally, 
and  the  functional  activity  of  that  portion  developed. 
This  is  well  known  in  the  common  forms  of  hypochon- 
driasis,  in  which  the  patient  being  morbidly  anxious 
as  to  the  state  of  some  particular  organ — e.  g.,  the 
heart — constantly  directs  his  attention  to  it,  and  thus 
functional  disorder,  and  even  structural  disease,  are 
caused."— Dr  Laycock. 

"There  can  be  no  doubt  that  real  disease  often 
supervenes  upon  fancied  ailment,  especially  through 
the  indulgence  of  what  is  known  asthehypochondria- 
cal  tendency  to  dwell  upon  uneasy  sensations;  these 
sensations  being  themselves  in  many  instances  purely 
subjective."— Dr.  Carpenter. 

Mr.  Carter  (On  the  Pathology  and  Treatment  of 
Hysteria)  relates  the  case  of  "a  lady  who,  watching 
her  little  child  at  play,  saw  a  heavy  window-sash  fall 


EFFECTS  IN  PRACTICAL  LIFE.  217 

upon  its  hand,  cutting  off  three  of  the  fingers;  and 
she  was  so  overcome  by  fright  and  distress  as  to  be 
unable  to  render  it  any  assistance.  A  surgeon  was 
speedily  obtained,  who,  having  dressed  the  wounds, 
turned  himself  to  the  mother,  whom  he  found  seated, 
moaning  and  complaining  of  pain  in  her  hand.  On 
examination,  three  fingers,  corresponding  to  those 
injured  in  the  child,  were  discovered  to  be  swollen  and 
inflamed,  although  they  had  ailed  nothing  prior  to 
the  accident.  In  four  and  twenty  hours  incisions 
were  made  into  them  and  pus  was  evacuated;  sloughs 
were  afterwards  discharged,  and  the  wounds  ulti- 
mately healed."* 

Secondly,  Its  Effects  in  Practical  Life.  Imagination  is 
a  grand  motive  power  in  human  progress.  All  prog- 
ress comes  from  efforts  to  realize  ideals,  and  ideals 
are  our  approaches  to  the  perfect.  Without  lofty 
and  inspiring  ideals,  there  will  be  little  progress  in 
any  department  of  human  interest.  Because  the  soul 
is  progressive,  it  never  quite  repeats  itself,  but  in 
every  act  attempts  the  production  of  a  new  and  fairer 
world.  This  is  what  makes  life  so  interesting;  with- 
out it,  the  humdrum  reality  of  life  would  be  well  nigh 
unbearable.  In  practical  life,  in  art,  in  literature, 
imagination  insures  originality  and  progress.  The 
leaders  of  thought  and  action,  in  all  ages,  have  been 
persons  gifted  with  powerful  imaginations. 

A  cultivated  imagination  leads  the  way  in  high 
achievements.  The  reason  for  this  is  apparent. 
Where  there  are  high  ideals  there  will  be  correspond- 
ing deeds,  but  it  is  the  office  of  imagination  to  make 
our  ideals.  Our  ideals  of  perfect  manhood  lead  us 

•Carpenter,  "Human  Physiology." 


2l8  IMAGINATION. 

forward  and  upward  in  our  efforts  at  character- 
building.  Imagination  stimulates  mental  energy. 
By  its  aid  we  can  do  more  and  better  work,  besides 
robbing  hard  work  of  its  tedium.  Being  a  constant 
inspiration  to  effort,  it  leads  the  way  to  progress. 

At  the  bottom  of  all  progress  is  the  quickening  in- 
fluence of  imagination  on  the  mind.  "Imagination 
gives  vividness  to  our  conceptions,  imparts  tone  to 
our  entire  mental  activity,  adds  force  to  our  reason- 
ing, casts  the  light  of  fancy  over  the  somber,  plodding 
steps  of  judgment,  gilds  the  recollections  of  the  past 
and  the  anticipations  of  the  future  with  a  coloring 
far  transcending  the  dull  actualities  of  life.  It  lights 
up  the  whole  horizon  of  thought,  as  the  sunrise 
flashes  along  the  mountain  top  and  lights  up  the 
valleys  of  earth.  Not  alone  the  poet,  the  orator,  the 
artist,  derive  benefit  from  the  use  of  the  imaginative 
faculty,  but  it  is  of  inestimable  value  to  all  men.  It 
opens  for  us  new  worlds,  enlarges  the  sphere  of  our 
mental  vision,  releases  us  from  the  bonds  and  bounds 
of  the  actual,  and  gives  us,  as  a  bird  let  loose,  the 
wide  firmament  of  thought  for  our  domain.  It  gilds 
the  bald,  sullen  actualities,  and  stern  realities  of  life, 
as  the  morning  reddens  the  chill,  snowy  summits  of 
the  Alps,  till  they  glow  in  resplendent  beauty" 
(Haven). 

Perhaps  no  faculty  of  the  mind  is  of  more  practical 
value  than  imagination  when  properly  cultivated  and 
held  hi  due  restraint.  Especially  is  it  of  value  in 
forming  and  holding  before  the  mind  an  ideal  of  ex- 
cellence in  whatever  we  pursue,  a  standard  of  attain- 
ment, practicable  and  desirable,  but  loftier  far  than 
anything  we  have  yet  reached.  To  present  such  an 
ideal  is  the  work  of  imagination,  which  looks  not  up- 


COLORS  HUMAN  LIFE.  2IQ 

on  the  actual,  but  the  possible,  and  conceives  that 
which  is  more  perfect  than  the  human  eye  hath  seen, 
or  the  human  hand  wrought.  No  man  ever  yet  at- 
tained excellence  in  any  art  or  profession,  who  had 
not  floating  before  his  mind  by  day  and  by  night, 
such  an  ideal  and  vision  of  what  he  might  and  ought 
to  be  and  do.  It  hovers  before  him  and  hangs  over 
him  like  the  bow  of  promise  and  of  hope,  advancing 
with  his  progress,  ever  rising  as  he  rises,  and  moving 
onward  as  he  moves;  he  will  never  reach  it,  but  with- 
out it  he  could  never  be  what  he  is. 

"The  happiness  and  misery  of  every  individual  of 
mankind  depends  almost  exclusively  on  the  particu- 
lar character  of  his  habitual  associations,  and  the 
relative  kind  and  intensity  of  his  imagination.  It  is 
much  less  what  we  actually  are,  and  what  we  actual- 
ly possess,  than  what  we  imagine  ourselves  to  be  and 
have,  that  is  decisive  of  our  existence  and  fortune" 
(Hamilton). 

"Imagination,  by  the  attractive  or  repulsive  pic- 
tures with  which,  according  to  our  habits  or  associa- 
tions, it  fills  the  frame  of  our  life,  lends  to  reality  a 
magical  charm,  or  despoils  it  of  all  its  pleasantness. 
The  imaginary  happy  and  the  imaginary  miserable 
are  common  in  the  world,  but  their  happiness  and 
misery  are  not  the  less  real;  everything  depends  on 
the  mode  in  which  they  feel  and  estimate  their  condi- 
tion . .  .  At  a  distance  things  seem  to  us  radiant 
with  a  celestial  beauty,  or  in  the  lurid  aspect  of  de- 
formity. In  the  past  our  joys  reappear  as  purer  and 
more  brilliant  than  they  had  been  actually  experienc- 
ed; and  sorrow  loses  not  only  its  bitterness,  but  is 
changed  even  into  a  source  of  pleasing  recollection." 
Hence,  the  fair  picture  of  a  'Golden  Age1,  the  dream 


220  IMAGINATION. 

of  the  youth  of  mankind.    "Man  never  is,  but  always 
to  be,  blessed." 

In  old  age,  when  the  future  is  dark  and  short, 
imagination  carries  us  back  again  into  the  midst  of 
days  that  were  far  better  than  the  present;— our  hap- 
py past  is  brought  back,  tinted  with  colors  more 
brilliant  than  any  we  ever  experienced.  "The  young," 
says  Aristotle,  "live  forwards  in  hope,  the  old  live 
backwards  in  memory." 

"Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view 
And  robes  the  mountain  in  its  azure  hue." 

Pleasures  of  Hope. 

Imagination  lightens  the  burdens  of  life.  Dr.  Hew- 
ett  says:  "A  little  boy,  walking  with  his  grandfa- 
ther, complained  of  being  tired,  and  asked  his  grand- 
father to  carry  him.  'No,'  said  the  grandfather, 
'take  my  gold-headed  cane  and  make  ahorse  of  it.' 
The  boy  bestrode  the  cane,  and  galloped  away 
happy." 

Many  a  weary  man  at  his  daily  toil  finds  his  task 
less  heavy  when  imagination  points  to  the  comforts 
which  that  toil  may  bring  to  wife  and  child.  Many  a 
poor,  tired  mother,  as,  late  at  night,  she  repairs  the 
tattered  clothing  of  her  little  ones,  may  find  the  task 
sweetened  as  she  pictures  the  possible  future  of  those 
objects  of  her  care  and  toil.  The  teacher  way  well 
imagine  what  her  troublesome  little  ones  may  be- 
come. Almost  every  cloud  has  its  "silver  lining," 
but  imagination  must  find  it.  Oh,  the  happy  faculty 
that  weaves  into  life's  sombre  fabric  some  threads  of 
gold  and  silver,  that  illumines  the  dark  picture  of 
daily  experience  with  some  bright  colors! 

In  the  language  of  another,  "The  more  closely  we 
study  human  knowledge  and  thought,  the  more 


MUSICAL  CLAIRVOYANCE.  221 

clearly  do  we  perceive  that  this  word  'imagination' 
has  more  compass  and  depth  of  meaning  than  any 
other  word  which  we  apply  to  our  faculties.  Wherever 
and  whenever  life  becomes  great  and  the  world  real 
to  us,  the  imagination  holds  aloft  its  quenchless 
torch. 

In  every  hour  when  a  new  truth  moves  back  a  little 
the  horizon  of  thought,  or  a  new  birth  of  beauty  ex- 
pands a  little  the  world  of  art,  the  imagination  is 
present ...  It  is  to  the  imagination  alone  that  sec- 
ond sight  belongs,— that  sight  which  does  not  rest  in 
obvious  and  material  things,  but  through  them,  as 
through  an  open  window,  perceives  another  and  di- 
viner order  of  creation.  Thus  the  imagination  fulfils 
for  the  soul  the  double  function  of  seeing  and  inter- 
preting, of  discovering  and  possessing." 

Fourthly,  Us  Influence  in  Music.  Art  in  general  is  the 
kingdom  of  the  imagination,  This  is  true  both  in 
respect  to  the  creation  of  art- works,  and  also  the  ap- 
preciation of  art-products.  How  rich  and  wonderful 
are  not  the  creations  of  imagination  as  we  see  them 
displayed  in  the  world's  great  galleries!  What  a 
kingdom  here!  So  in  the  temple  of  literary  fame, 
how  rich,  how  vast,  how  beautiful,  how  inspiring  the 
empire  of  poetic  imagery!  But  music  surpasses  all 
other  departments  of  art  in  the  wealth  and  magnifi- 
cence of  its  imaginative  creations.  As  music  stu- 
dents, we  are  especially  interested  in  the  use  of  imag- 
ination, not  only  in  the  composition  of  musical  mas- 
terpieces, but  also  in  the  appreciation  and  interpreta- 
tion of  them. 

A  lively  and  well  cultivated  imagination  is  of  ines- 
timable value  to  the  musician  in  calling  forth  those 
ideal  chords,  those  sublime  harmonies  in  the  soul 


IMAGINATION. 


which  are  the  true  content  of  all  good  music  and 
which  constitute  its  indescribable  charm. 

Imagination  is  to  the  musical  artist  what  the  sails 
are  to  the  ship,  namely,  a  propelling  power.  Wagner 
once  said  that  a  "composer,  when  at  work,  is  in  a 
state  of  clairvoyance."  What  does  this  mean?  Clair- 
voyance means  clear  vision,— clearer  than  the  sense 
can  yield,  a  vision  transcending  the  power  of  the  nat- 
ural eye,— a  power  attributed  to  some  persons  while 
in  a  mesmeric  state,  of  discerning  objects  not  percep- 
tible by  the  senses  in  their  normal  state.  The  clair- 
voyant power  of  the  musical  composer  is  but  another 
name  for  his  imagination.  When  his  senses  fail  him, 
his  imagination  comes  to  his  aid  and  opens  up  to 
him  the  beauties  of  the  soul's  secret  wonder-realm,  its 
fairy-land  of  "vision  beatific." 

What  Wagner  thus  said  of  the  composer  is  also  ap- 
plicable, in  a  less  degree,  to  the  player  andihe singer. 
His  imagination  transports  him  beyond  himself,  so 
that  he  is  in  ecstasy.  Ecstasy  (ex,  out  of,  and  sto, 
stand)  means  to  be  outside  of  one's  self,  or  beside 
one's  self;  as  Festus  said,  "Paul,  thou  art  beside  thy- 
self; much  learning  doth  make  thee  mad."  When  a 
player  or  singer  does  his  best,  he  is  rapt  (from  rapio, 
to  seize  and  carry  off,  to  snatch),  carried  out  of  him- 
self, snatched  away,  enraptured,  transported  with 
love,  admiration,  and  delight, — wholly  absorbed  or  en- 
grossed in  his  performance.  Hence,  Longfellow's 
phrase,  "the  rapt  musician,"— snatched  away  as  by 
some  invisible  power  and  transported  into  a  third 
heaven,  where  he  hears  sounds  unutterable,  harmonies 
transcending  the  powers  of  expression.  It  is  his  imag- 
ination that  secures  for  him  access  into  this  wonder- 
ful sound-realm.  It  is  this  that  gives  his  play  ing  and 


SYMPATHY  WITH  THE  OCCASION.  223 

singing  inspiration.  The  musician's  whole  self  is  con- 
centrated in  what  he  does,  so  that  the  world  outside 
of  himself  fades  away  from  his  view  and  he  communes 
face  to  face  with  the  beautiful  forms  which  animate 
his  vision. 

By  this  means  the  player  brings  himself  into  sym- 
pathy with  the  composer  and  with  the  occasion.  A 
distinguished  musician  and  author  in  the  following 
extracts  tells  us  a  valuable  secret:— 

"When  I  am  about  to  perform  music,  I  endeavor  to  concentrate 
my  whole  self  on  what  I  am  to  play.  If  I  am  to  play  a  funeral 
march,  I  first  strive  to  enter  the  house  of  mourning.  There  I  see 
the  dead  one  lying  in  his  coffin,  I  see  the  floral  offerings,  and  me- 
thinks  I  can  smell  the  very  tuberoses.  I  see  before  me  the  family 
of  the  deceased,  with  pain  and  sorrow  depicted  upon  their  faces, 
yes,  I  hear  from  time  to  time  the  moans  and  sobs  which  irresist 
ibly  escape  their  lips,  breaking  the  monotonous  and  painful  silence 
that  pervades  the  death  chamber.  I  hear  the  word  of  God  read, 
I  listen  to  the  hymn  of  consolation,  I  see  them  close  the  coffin 
after  the  family  have  taken  the  last,  sad  glance.  I  see  them  carry 
the  body  out,  I  hear  the  creak  of  the  hearse  door,  and  a  cold  chill 
runs  over  me,  as,  in  my  imagination,  I  hear  the  terrible  noise  pro- 
duced by  placing  the  coffin  within;  I  see  the  people  standing  on  the 
pavement  looking  at  each  other  with  sorrowing  faces,  I  hear  the 
bell  toll,  I  see  the  procession  start,  and  thus  I  prepare  myself  to 
play  a  funeral  march." 

"When  I  hear  that  tender  Aria  from  the  Messiah,  'He  was  despised 
and  rejected,'  I  see  my  Saviour's  suffering  face  as  he  stands  before 
Pilate,  or  as  he  is  spat  upon,  mocked  and  struck  by  the  rude  hands 
of  soldiers.  I  see  his  forehead  bleeding  from  the  thorny  crown, 
matting  his  hair,  and  staining  his  lovely  face.  A  voice  says,  'Ecce 
Homo!'  The  Master's  loving  eyes  look  at  me,  and  when  I  play  the 
accompaniment,  where  the  instrument  moans  and  sobs,  as  it  were, 
I  often  shed  tears  at  the  sorrowful  sight  before  me.  Then,  when 
the  song  is  ended,  I  feel  a  sense  of  contrition  and  sorrow,  I  hardly 
dare  to  speak  aloud,  I  see  my  own  waywardness  that  has  brought 
all  this  suffering  of  sorrow  and  grief  on  this  man.  Oh,  what  a 
power  there  is  in  such  a  song,  how  it  lifts  us  up  and  brings  us 
nearer  to  God  1" 


224  IMAGINATION. 

"Handel  said,  that  when  he  wrote  the  Hallelujah  chorus,  he 
thought  he  saw  the  heavens  open,  and  the  angels  singing  around 
the  throne.  So  when  I  hear  this  strain,  I  stand  on  Calvary  and 
Hook  up  at  the  cross,  and  confess  my  own  guilt,  my  lack  of  love." 

"When  I  hear  a  strain  from  the  immortal  Beethoven,  I  wander 
to  the  master's  home,  I  hear  him  complain  of  the  hardness  of  this 
world,  I  hear  him  bemoan  his  deafness,  I  see  him  as  a  caged  lion 
shut  out  from  the  world,  and  sadly  I  sit  down  by  his  side,  and 
with  fear  and  awe  I  listen  to  what  he  has  to  tell  me.  When  I  hear 
some  of  his  strains,  I  imagine  him  to  be  a  Jupiter;  then  again  his 
strains  impress  me  as  would  the  appearance  of  the  ghost  in  Ham- 
let. Suffice  it  to  say,  my  imagination  is  never  idle  when  playing 
this  master's  wonderful  strains." 

"When  I  play  one  of  Mendelssohn's  Venetian  Gondola  Songs  my 
mind  goes  to  sunny  Italy,  and  in  my  imagination  I  see  Venice 
with  her  streets  of  water  and  her  beautiful  blue  sky.  I  hear  the 
music  of  the  boatmen,  and  whether  my  fancy  picture  is  correct  or 
not  it  serves  my  purpose,  it  enables  me  to  play  and  enjoy  the  little 
tone  poem  to  a  higher  degree.  Listen  to  it,  hear  its  passionate 
yet  tender  melody,  and  notice  how,  as  the  boat  has  passed  away 
in  the  distance  and  the  song  is  no  longer  heard,  there  is  a  spell 
left  behind  that  holds  you  as  in  a  dream;  and  after  the  little  strain 
is  ended,  I  sometimes  sit  spell  bound  and  listen,  as  if  I  could  still 
hear  the  gentle  strain  that  has  vanished  so  softly." 

"I  have  a  little  slumber  song  which  I  love  dearly.  Before  I 
play  it  I  often  go  to  a  quiet  country  home.  There  on  the  rustic 
old  porch,  the  mother  has  seated  herself  with  her  needlework; 
by  her  side  stands  a  cradle  wherein  lies  her  little  treasure, 
about  to  take  its  afternoon  nap.  Oh,  I  can  fairly  feel  the  still- 
ness of  the  day;  I  see  the  glorious  sunlight  as  it  falls  on  the  thick 
vines  which  surround  the  porch,  letting  in  enough  light  to 
throw  the  strangest  and  most  artistic  forms  of  shadow  on  the 
floor  and  wall.  I  hear  the  hum  of  the  insects,  I  hear  the  distant 
voice  of  the  ploughman,  I  hear  the  tinkle  of  the  cow  bell,  and 
while  the  mother  rocks  the  cradle  she  sings  this  little  air,  called 
the  slumber  song.  Listen  to  the  accompaniment  with  its  rock 
ing,  and  then  hear  that  sweet  melody  as  it  finally  dies  away 
when  the  baby  is  asleep."* 


*Mertz,  "Music  and  Culture.' 


MUSICAL  DECEPTIONS.  225 

From  these  examples  we  see  that  the  true  musician, 
when  singing  or  playing,  is,  so  to  speak,  out  of  the 
body;  he  roams  in  a  land  of  fancy. 

It  is  not  possible  to  sing  or  play  with  expression 
without  the  aid  of  a  well  trained  imagination.  Thought 
and  sentiment  are  indeed  necessary  on  on  the  part  of 
the  musician  for  proper  expression,  but  these  must 
be  supplemented  by  a  lively  imagination,  the  power 
which  enables  him  to  live  himself  in  the  situations 
and  conditions  so  that  he  becomes  oblivious  to  the 
outer  world. 

The  power  of  imagination  in  music  may  be  judged 
from  certain  innocent  deceptions  which  are  often  prac- 
ticed on  people.  A  musically  inclined  lady  in  London 
once  went  to  one  of  Paganini's  rehearsals.  Having 
failed  to  bring  his  instrument  along  he  borrowed  one 
from  a  member  of  the  orchestra,  and,  instead  of  play- 
ing, made  merely  a  sort  of  pizzicato,  indicating  the 
time  in  which  he  would  play  the  piece.  After  the  re- 
hearsal the  lady  addressed  Mr.  Cook,  the  leader  of 
the  orchestra,  saying,  "Oh,  dear  Mr.  Cook,  what  a 
wonderful  man  this  Paganini  is;  I  declare  that  until 
this  morning  I  absolutely  knew  nothing  about  music, 
I  never  knew  what  it  is  capable  of ."  "Indeed,"  said 
Mr.  Cook,  "music  is  a  great  art,  but  allow  me  to  say 
that  you  are  indebted  to  your  imagination  for  this 
pleasure."  "How  is  this,  Mr  Cook?"  "Why,  Pagan- 
ini did  not  play  at  all,  he  did  not  touch  a  bow."  "Ex- 
traordinary," replied  she,  "I  am  more  than  ever  con- 
firmed in  my  opinion  of  him,  for  if  without  playing 
he  can  affect  people  in  this  manner,  how  much  more 
wonderful  must  be  the  sensation  when  he  does  play." 

Violin  players  in  diminuendo  terminations  some- 
times practice  deception  on  their  audience.  After 

Psychology.  15 


226  IMAGINATION. 

the  pianissimo  has  been  reached  they  continue  to  bow 
as  if  still  playing,  but  they  are  careful  not  to  touch 
the  strings.  The  listener  hears  in  imagination  a  still 
fainter  sound  than  the  pianissimo. 

Liszt  on  one  occasion  found  himself  surrounded  by 
a  bevy  of  ladies  who  importuned  him  to  play  for 
them,  to  produce  for  them  "those  ecstasies,  those  ar- 
tistic raptures  which  his  magnificent  talent  never  fail- 
ed to  evoke."  Overcome  by  their  persuasions,  he 
seated  himself  at  the  piano  and  played.  By  his 
wonderful  skill  some  of  the  ladies  were  soon  over- 
come with  delight;  some  even  fainted!  In  telling  a 
friend  of  the  matter  afterwards,  Liszt  said:  "Believe 
me,  I  played  many  wrong  notes  intentionally;  indeed, 
so  palpable  were  some  of  my  errors,  that  had  I  been 
playing  at  any  elementary  music  school,  I  should 
certainly  have  been  expelled  as  an  impostor."* 

Musical  Interpretation.  A  vivid  imagination  is  highly 
necessary  for  musical  interpretation.  What  is  inter- 
pretation, and  what  is  implied?  It  means  to  explain, 
to  tell  the  meaning  of,  to  expound,  to  translate 
orally  into  intelligible  or  familiar  terms,  to  show  by 
illustrative  representation,  as  an  actor,  e.  g.,  inter- 
prets the  character  of  Hamlet,  as  a  musician  inter- 
prets a  sonata,  as  an  artist  interprets  a  landscape. 

Musical  interpretation  implies  a  hidden  meaning  in 
the  composition,  else  there  would  be  no  need  of  inter- 
pretation. What  has  no  deep  meaning  needs  no  in- 
terpretation; a  dime  novel  does  not  need  to  be  inter- 
preted. Shakespeare's  plays  need  interpretation;  so 
do  "Paradise  Lost"  and  Beethoven's  Symphonies. 
Classic  music  needs  to  be  interpreted,  because  there  is 
always  something  new,  something  fresh  about  it 

*Gates,  "Anecdotes  of  Great  Musicians." 


HOW  TO  ENJOY  MUSIC.  227 

every  time  we  look  earnestly  into  it.  The  sonatas  of 
Mozart,  Haydn,  Beethoven,  and  others  afford  oppor- 
tunity for  interpretation.  It  is  the  office  of  the  musical 
interpreter  to  represent  in  tone  and  action  the  mean- 
ing of  the  composer,  to  reproduce  the  beautiful  imagery 
which  occupied  the  mind  of  the  composer  at  the  time 
he  wrote  the  piece. 

Take  for  example  the  dramatic  actor.  What  is  his 
office?  In  what  does  his  art  consist?  It  is  to  repre- 
sent to  the  audience  by  means  of  words,  gestures, 
acts,  etc.,  the  imagery  and  scenes  of  the  play  just  as 
the  writer  of  it  saw  them  or  conceived  them.  The  great 
Shakespeare  actors  and  actresses  have  been  profound 
and  patient  students  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  Thus 
alone  can  they  find  out  the  meaning  of  the  plays. 
But  this  in  itself  does  not  make  them  good  actors; 
they  need  a  vivid  imagination  to  represent,  first,  to 
their  own  mind,  and,  secondly,  to  the  audience,  the 
meaning  of  the  play.  So  also  is  it  in  the  matter  of 
musical  representation.  The  player  or  singer  must 
have  the  power  to  image  to  his  own  mind  the  mean- 
ing of  the  composition,  and  then  to  represent  the 
same  to  the  listeners.  From  a  thorough  study  of  the 
nature  and  meaning  of  a  work,  the  interpreter  must 
form  a  correct  mind-picture  of  it.  In  this  way  he  will 
be  able  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  work  as  a  whole 
and  represent  it  in  life-like  form.  His  imagination  is 
the  power  that  will  bring  the  work  before  the  mind's 
eye  as  a  piece  of  musical  sculpture  or  architecture. 

Enjoyment  of  Music.  It  is  in  music  as  in  poetry. 
The  works  of  Milton,  for  example,  can  not  be  com- 
prehended, or  enjoyed  unless  the  mind  of  the  reader 
cooperates  with  that  of  the  writer.  Milton  does  not 
paint  a  finished  picture,— he  sketches  it,  and  leaves 


228  IMAGINATION. 

others  to  fill  up  the  outline.  So  the  great  musician 
does  not  play  for  a  mere  passive  listener:  he  strikes 
the  key  note,  so  to  speak,  and  then  expects  his  hearer 
to  make  out  the  melody.  In  order  to  enjoy  Spenser's 
Faerie  Queen  the  reader  must  abandon  himself  to 
the  luxuriant  fancy  of  the  poet,  and  with  him  float 
along  through  the  varied  scenes  of  his  enchanting 
fairyworld  in  blissful  oblivion  of  the  realities  of  the 
senses.  So,  to  enjoy  the  rare  beauties  of  Mozart  and 
Haydn  the  listener  must  rise  on  the  wings  of  imagin- 
ation into  ethereal  heights  and  view  those  heavenly 
visions  which  occupied  the  minds  of  the  composers, 
all  forgetful  of  the  outer  world. 

Schubert's  music  has  a  high  degree  of  imaginary 
coloring:  there  is  very  much  of  the  spirit  of  poetry  in 
it.  It  is  said  of  Dr.  Johnson  that  when  he  got  hold  of 
a  book  "he  tore  the  heart  out  of  it;"  with  Schubert 
it  was  very  much  the  same  way.  When  he  read  a 
poem,  he  at  once  fastened  upon  it  and  transcribed  it 
hi  music.  Schumann  said  of  him,  "Everything  that 
he  touched  turned  into  music."  Liszt  said  of  him, 
"that  he  was  the  most  poetical  of  musicians." 
By  his  magic  touch  some  of  the  finest  poems  of 
our  greatest  poets  were  enhanced  and  even  sur- 
passed when  translated  into  musical  language. 
He  possessed  in  preeminent  degree  what  Wagner  has 
called  "musical  clairvoyance,"  which  is  but  another 
name  for  image-vision.  In  listening  to  Schubert's 
compositions  it  is  often  as  if  one  were  brought  into 
face  to  face  contact  with  music  itself;  it  is  as  if  in  his 
pieces  the  stream  from  the  great  heavenly  reservoirs 
were  dashing  over  us,  or  flowing  through  us.  Owing 
to  these  peculiarities,  his  music  can  best  be  enjoyed 
when  the  listener  or  player  is  in  a  similarly  high 


CULTIVATION  OF  THE  IMAGINATION.  22Q 

wrought  state  of  mind,— rhapsodical  state.  Many 
of  Schubert's  symphonies  and  other  instrumental 
pieces  are  of  a  peculiar,  wild,  weird,  romantic  beauty, 
best  described  as  "Scbubertian."  Schubert  is  among 
musicians  what  Hawthorne  is  among  story  writers, 
a  delightful  romancer,  and  to  enjoy  his  rhapsodical 
music  one  must  let  his  imagination  have  loose  reins 
to  wander  at  pleasure  over  moor  and  fen,  through 
field  and  forest,  over  mountain  and  valley  wherever 
the  weird  fancy  of  the  author  may  lead. 

Cultivation  of  the  Imagination.  If  the  imagination  has 
such  power  and  influence,  as  we  have  now  seen,  the 
importance  of  carefully  cultivating  it  immediately 
follows.  The  need  of  cultivating  the  imagination 
arises  from  the  nature  of  its  action,  viz.,  a  tendency 
to  disregard  truth  in  its  creations,  and  to  become  wild 
and  romantic  in  its  operation.  In  all  these  respects 
there  is  a  tendency  to  wards  injurious  excess.  If  ayouth 
learns  to  satisfy  himself  with  his  imaginative  indulgen- 
ces, he  becomes  unfit  for  the  serious  work  and  duties  of 
life.  Excessive  use  of  the  imagination  destroys  the 
power  of  decision  and  action  by  weakening  the  will. 
For  will  and  judgment  as  regulative  principles  of  life, 
it  substitutes  emotion,  and  the  life  which  is  governed 
by  emotion  is  apt  to  swing  off  into  all  kinds  of 
extremes.  So  in  order  to  keep  the  intellectual  life  in 
its  normal  balance,  and  secure  for  the  imagination 
its  proper  place  and  value  in  the  mental  economy,  it 
must  be  subjected  to  restraints  and  wholesome  dis- 
cipline. 

The  fact  that  the  maximum  activity  of  the  imagi- 
nation occurs  during  the  formative  period  of  life, 
when  all  other  powers  must  be  subjected  to  training 
in  order  to  secure  them  their  normal  development, 


230  IMAGINATION. 

makes  it  necessary  also  to  cultivate  the  imagination 
during  this  period.  Herbert  Spencer  says:  "There  is 
a  certain  sequence  in  which  the  faculties  spontaneous- 
ly develop,  and  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge  which 
each  power  requires  during  its  several  stages  of 
growth.  It  is  for  us  to  ascertain  this  sequence  and 
supply  this  knowledge." 

This  is  an  educational  principle  of  great  importance. 
If  a  faculty  is  capable  of  culture,  very  manifestly  the 
psychological  foundations  of  education  demand  that 
the  time  for  such  culture  be  the  period  of  growth. 

When  is  this  period  of  growth?  In  childhood 
phantasy  is  very  active,  but  the  higher  imagination 
only  moderately  so.  Infants  possess  what  we  have 
called  sense-imagination,  but  little  if  any  of  the  higher 
modes  of  imagination.  In  youth  this  faculty  becomes 
marvelously  active,  but  its  products  are  crude.  About 
the  age  of  fourteen  it  bursts  forth  into  wonderful  ac- 
tivity, and  becomes  more  and  more  vigorous  as  the 
years  go  by.  In  manhood,  about  the  age  of  twenty- 
one,  imagination  attains  its  full  activity.  From  this 
time  till  after  the  middle  of  life  it  continues  its  sway. 

According  to  the  educational  principle  above  laid 
down,  namely,  that  the  time  for  training  a  faculty 
must  be  the  period  of  its  growth,  the  right  time  for 
cultivating  the  imagination  is  between  the  ages  of 
twelve  and  twenty-one.  This  is  also  the  period  when 
our  ideals  are  shaped. 

Means  and  Methods  of  Cultivation.  Even  imagination 
conforms  to  law,  and  consequently  educational  laws 
are  applicable  to  the  training  of  it.  Well  directed 
effort  under  the  guidance  of  judgment  and  will  occu- 
pies the  first  place  among  the  culturing  means. 
Proper  use  improves  the  creative  faculty,  while  neglect 


THE  IMAGING  HABIT.  231 

weakens  it.  The  unimaginative  must  put  forth  effort 
to  picture  things;  the  over-imaginative  must  restrain 
their  excessive  fancy.  Studies  and  exercises  which 
have  the  effect,  either  to  stimulate  or  to  restrain  as 
the  case  may  require,  have  high  disciplinary  value. 
Among  these,  music  ranks  foremost.  The  effort  to 
picture  in  one's  mind  the  composer's  conception  as  a 
whole,  so  that  his  tone  concepts  may  stand  forth  in 
vivid,  almost  visual  outline,  has  the  effect  to  greatly 
strengthen  and  develop  the  picturing  faculty.  Effort 
to  create  musical  ideals  educates  the  musical  imagin- 
ation. Hence,  it  is  a  good  thing  to  encourage  the 
pupil  to  compose.  Where  this  is  not  practicable,  it 
is  an  excellent  practice  for  the  pupil  to  try  to  repro- 
duce in  his  mind  the  ideals  of  composers  as  embodied 
in  their  compositions. 

Kindergarten  methods  are  to  be  encouraged.  They 
embody  the  best  philosophy  of  education  in  general. 
The  imagination  is  cultivated  by  easy  objective  work. 
By  the  kindergarten  method  the  child  is  led  to  make 
new  combinations  of  blocks,  sticks,  lines,  etc,,— new 
forms  in  paper,  wood,  clay,  etc.,— new  arrangements  in 
stories,  plays,  pictures,  etc.,  in  all  of  which  his  power 
of  imagination  is  called  forth.  Many  of  the  principles 
involved  in  these  methods,  though  designed  for  child- 
ren, are  just  as  applicable  to  adults.  The  great  thing 
in  this  kind  of  training  work  is  to  cause  the  learner 
to  originate  new  combinations  according  to  ideals 
which  are  his  own,  whether  with  blocks,  sticks,  lines, 
notes,  or  whatever  else. 

The  pupil  should  try  to  image  what  he  reads  or 
studies.  It  is  not  enough  to  read  the  notes  as  they 
stand  on  the  staff;  you  should  associate  with  them 
some  image  of  vision  or  sound.  The  imaging  habit 


232 


IMAGINATION. 


is  essential  in  learning  to  read  well  any  ordinary  book. 
A  reader  will  be  able  to  express  adequately  the  sense 
of  what  he  reads  in  proportion  as  he  can  make  the 
sense  stand  forth  in  clear  and  distinct  images.  For 
instance,  take  the  sentence,  "See  the  pretty  snow- 
flakes  falling  from  the  sky."  It  is  apparently  very 
simple  and  easy  to  read;  but  no  one  is  able  to  read  it 
well,  i.  e.,  appreciating!?  or  realizing!?,  until  he  can 
image  correctly  the  falling  snowflakes.  Suppose  you 
are  teaching  a  class  to  read  this  sentence.  It  will  help 
the  imaging  process  if  you  draw  a  picture  of  a  snow- 
flake;  then  cut  out  of  white  paper  a  number  of  snow- 
flakes.  "Who  can  make  a  snowstorm?"  you  ask. 
Taking  a  handful  of  the  paper-flakes,  hurl  them  into 
the  air,  and  you  awaken  in  the  minds  of  the  pupils 
an  image  of  the  falling  snowflakes.  The  music  teacher 
can  devise  similar  means  for  cultivating  in  his  pupils 
the  habit  of  imaging  what  they  play  or  sing. 

The  study  of  onomatopoetic  words  and  phrases  has 
excellent  value  in  training  the  imaginative  faculty. 
Onomatopoetic  words  are  such  as  imitate  in  their 
sound  the  sense  they  convey,  e.  g.,  "buzz,  "hiss," 
"crackle,"  "bang,"  "splash,"  "thud,"  "roar,"  "rum- 
ble," etc.  The  verses  of  Milton  abound  in  examples. 
The  following  stanza  from  Saxe's"KhymeoftheKail" 
illustrates  the  point: 

''Singing  through  the  forests, 
Rattling  over  ridges, 
Shooting  under  arches, 
Rumbling  over  bridges, 
Whizzing  through  the  mountains, 
Buzzing  o'er  the  vale — 
Bless  me!  this  is  pleasant, 
Riding  on  the  rail!" 


DESCRIPTIVE  MUSIC.  233 

Or  take  some  lines  from  Southey's  "Cataract  of 
Lodore" — 

"Dividing  and  gliding  and  sliding, 

And  falling  and  brawling  and  sprawling, 

And  driving  and  riving  and  striving, 

And  sprinkling  and  twinkling  and  wrinkling, 

And  sounding  and  bounding  and  rounding; 

And  grumbling  and  rumbling  and  tumbling, 

Delaying  and  straying  and  playing  and  spraying, 

Advancing  and  prancing  and  glancing  and  dancing, 

And  thumping  and  plumping  and  bumping  and  jumping, 

And  dashing  and  flashing  and  splashing  and  clashing; 

And  so  never  ending,  but  always  descending, 

Sounds  and  motions  forever  are  blending, 

All  at  once  and  all  o'er,  with  a  mighty  uproar— 

And  this  way  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore." 

The  study  of  descriptive  music  is  good  exercise  for 
the  imagination.  Schumann's  picture-music  affords 
excellent  specimens.  Mr.  Derthick  has  said,  "There  is 
no  book  of  fairy  tales  in  all  the  world  that  has  in  it 
so  many  beautiful  stories  and  pictures  as  you  will 
find  in  the  two  books  of  Schumann,  called  "Scenes  of 
Childhood'  and  'The  Album  of  Youth'.1'  This  "picture 
music"  or  "program  music,"  as  it  is  sometimes 
called,  is  intended  to  convey  to  the  hearer,  by 
means  of  instruments  and  without  the  use  of  words, 
a  description  or  suggestion  of  definite  objects,  scenes 
and  events,  which  of  course  can  be  apprehended 
only  by  the  aid  of  the  imagination. 

Study  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  art.  Beauty 
marvelously  quickens  the  imagination.  Commune 
with  nature;  study  her  forms,  her  colors,  her  sounds, 
her  motions.  Oh,  the  beautiful  world  we  live  in!  Cul- 
tivate an  appreciation  of  art  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  artist.  In  the  products  of  art  see  the  artist's 


234  IMAGINATION. 

ideals;  he  created  the  ideals  which  he  has  embodied 
in  his  pieces;  creating  them  over  again  on  the  part  of 
the  pupil  educates  his  imaginative  powers.  Still  more 
does  it  cultivate  his  imagination  if  the  pupil  tries  to 
create  original  art-ideals  and  strives  to  realize  them. 
Cultivate  a  correct  art-taste.  There  is  prevalent  in 
the  word,  unfortunately,  much  very  bad  taste.  There 
is  a  tendency  to  extravagance  and  show.  We  see  it 
in  the  excessive  foliage  of  vegetation  allowed  to  run 
wild,  in  dress,  in  the  architecture  and  decoration  of 
our  houses,  in  the  style  of  living,  in  music.  Extrava- 
gance belongs  to  the  inexperience  of  childhood,  the 
crudities  of  the  savage,  the  Philistinism  of  the  half 
educated.  Acquire  a  thorough  knowledge  of  aesthetic 
principles  and  the  principles  of  art  criticism. 

Add  to  the  stock  of  concepts.  The  imagination 
must  have  an  abundance  of  materials  out  of  which  to 
shape  its  creations.  Just  as  a  child  must  have  suffi- 
cient nutritious  food  for  the  proper  growth  of  its 
body,  so  the  imagination  must  be  supplied  with  con- 
cepts in  order  that  it  may  attain  its  right  develop- 
ment. Therefore,  extend  the  field  of  knowledge, 
multiply  points  of  contact  with  the  great  world 
of  thought  and  achievement,  read  the  best  poetry, 
history  and  science,  cultivate  familiarity  with  what 
is  grand  and  lofty  and  inspiring  in  letters,  art,  ora- 
tory, music.  No  one  can  be  familiar  with  the  cre- 
ations of  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  Mozart  and 
Beethoven,  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  without 
catching  something  of  their  inspiration. 

It  is  the  business  of  imagination  to  seek  out  pic- 
tures and  materials  for  pictures  in  the  realm  of  the 
real  in  order  to  construct  and  adorn  the  realm  of  the 
ideal.  If  a  child  has  only  few  and  poor  blocks  his 


MATERIALS  FOR  THE  IMAGINATION.  235 

constructions  are  limited;  if  he  has  many  blocks,  he 
will  build  his  temples  and  castles  and  cities  on  a 
grander  scale.  So  the  first  requisite  to  a  fine  creative 
imagination  is  a  sufficient  supply  of  preceptional  and 
conceptional  materials.  If  you  possess  only  few  ac- 
curate ideas,  you  need  not  wonder  why  you  have  no 
greater  imaginative  power.  Imagination  builds  on 
the  suggestions  of  experience.  And  it  does  not  re- 
quire unusual,  rare,  out-of-the-way,  materials  to 
make  a  fine  imagination.  Suitable  materials  are 
found  in  the  life  of  every  person.  Just  look  around 
you  and  note  the  great  wealth  of  materials  for  fine 
fancy  sketches.  Autumn  leaves  with  their  glorious 
coloring,  waving  grain  fields,  lights  and  shadows 
over  forest  and  moor,  meadows  adorned  with  clover 
and  daisies,  blooming  orchards  over  against  the  blue 
summer  sky,  the  singing  birds,  the  babbling  brooks, 
the  glowing  sunset,  the  fantastic  silver  edges  of  the 
thunder  cloud,  the  brilliant  bow  of  promise,  the 
drapery  of  mist  skirting  the  mountain  side,  the  bril- 
liant stars,  the  flush  of  morn,  the  sighing  breezes,  the 
roaring  tempest,  the  hum  of  machinery,  the  buzzing 
of  bees,  the  sports  of  the  insect  world,  the  herds  and 
flocks  of  the  field  and  barnyard,  the  "human  face  di- 
vine," busy  life  in  all  its  phases— these  and  ten  thou- 
sand other  things  are  strewn  about  the  pathway  of 
everyone  and  afford  rich  materials  for  the  beautiful 
creations  of  an  active  imagination. 


236  IMAGINATION. 

QUESTIONS. 

1.  Define  imagination. 

2.  Describe  the  relation  of  imagination  to  memory. 

3.  Point  in  the  lines  from  Shelley? 

4.  What  is  meant  by  the  constructive  imagination? 

5.  Describe  double  process  of  decomposition  and  reconstruction, 

6.  Illustrate  the  creative  process  of  imagination. 

7.  What  is  meant  by  sense-imagination? 

8.  Wh&t  IB  phantasy?    Illustrate. 

9.  What  of  day-dreaming? 

10.  What  is  said  of  sleep  and  delirium? 

11.  How  does  phantasy  depend  on  experience? 

12.  What  of  phantasy  in  childhood?    Illustrate. 

13.  Describe  the  physiological  basis  of  phantasy. 

14.  What  about  visual  dreams  in  case  of  blindness? 

15.  Describe  the  general  nature  of  imagination  proper. 

16.  Explain  its  physiological  basis. 

17.  Describe  the  scientific  mode  of  imagination.    Give  examples. 

18.  Value  of  imagination  to  the  experimenter  and  inventor? 

19.  Substance  of  remarks  by  Brodie  and  Tyndall? 

20.  What  is  the  aesthetic  imagination? 

21.  What  are  idealt,  and  what  their  value? 

22.  What  of  experience  as  a  limit  of  imagination?   Explain  and 
illustrate. 

23.  Educational  bearing  of  this  principle? 

24.  Show  that  imagination  is  limited  to  the  individual  and  the 
concrete. 

25.  What  of  the  general  influence  and  importance  of  imagina- 
tion. 

26.  Describe  its  mental  and  bodily  effects.    Illustrate. 

27.  How  explain  these  phenomena? 

28.  Give  substance  of  statements  by  Laycock  and  Carpenter. 

29.  Effects  of  imagination  impractical  life?    Explain. 

30.  Its  influence  on  human  happiness?    Illustrate. 

31.  Its  influence  in  old  age? 

32.  Influence  on  the  hardships  and  trials  of  daily  life? 

33.  Describe  the  beneficent  function  of  imagination. 

34.  Influence  of  imagination  in  music? 

35.  How  is  a  good  imagination  of  value  to  the  musician? 


QUESTIONS.  237 

36.  Explain  Wagner's  expression  about  clairvoyance. 

37.  What  is  ecstasy?    Illustrate. 

38.  What  is  "the  rapt  musician"? 

39.  Give  substance  of  extracts  from  Mertz.    What  do  they 
illustrate? 

40.  Why  is  imagination  necessary  for  good  singing  and  play- 
ing? 

41.  What  is  said  of  certain  deceptions  perpetrated  by  musicians? 
Illustrate. 

42.  What  is  interpretation,  and  in  what  cases  necessary?    Illus- 
trate. 

43.  What  value  has  the  imagination  in  musical  interpretation? 

44.  Why  is  imagination  necessary  for  the  enjoyment  of  music? 
Illustrate. 

45.  What  is  said  of  Schubert  and  his  music? 

46.  Why  should  the  imagination  be  cultivated?    To  what  ex- 
tent possible? 

47.  When  should  the  cultivation  take  place,  and  why? 

48.  State  Spencer's  dictum,  and  show  its  importance. 

49.  When  is  the  period  of  growth  of  the  imaginative  faculty? 

50.  What  general  remarks  about  means  and  methods  of  cultiva- 
tion? 

51.  What  about  Kindergarten  methods? 

52.  Value  of  the  imagining  habit  in  reading  music?     Illustrate. 

53.  What  of  onomatopoetic  words?    Give  examples. 

54.  Benefit  of  studying  descriptive  music? 

55.  What  of  Schumann's  picture -music? 

56.  Why  study  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  art? 

57.  Explain  value  of  concepts  in  the  culture  of  the  imagination. 

58.  What  of  beauty  in  the  world? 


238  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Feelings  and  Emotions. 

THE  feelings  constitute  one  of  the  three  grand  di- 
visions of  psychology.  Perceptions  and  con- 
ceptions are  accompanied  by  certain  states  of 
mind,  such  as  anger,  fear,  hate,  love,  joy,  grief, 
shame,  pride,  avarice,  revenge,  humility,  etc.,  etc. 
These  are  broadly  called  feelings  or  emotions.  Feel- 
ing as  a  state  of  the  soul  is  distinguished,  on  the  one 
hand,  from  sensation,  which  is  a  state  of  the  body, 
and  on  the  other  hand,  from  emotion,  which  is  more 
complex  and  denotes  a  subdivision  of  feeling.  Emo- 
tion is  often  used  as  synonymous  with  feeling;  but 
taken  strictly,  it  means  "a  state  of  feeling  which, 
while  it  does  not  spring  directly  from  an  affection  of 
body,  manifests  its  existence  and  character  by  some 
sensible  effect  upon  the  body."  According  to  Halleck, 
"an  emotion  is  the  complex  agreeable  or  disagreea- 
ble side  of  any  complete  mental  state,  while  feeling 
is  the  simple  agreeable  or  disagreeable  side  of  any 
mental  activity.  .  .  .  Emotion,  like  perception,  is  a 
more  complex  and  complete  mental  state,  and  it  de- 
mands the  presence  of  a  representative  idea  to  guide 
and  prolong  it.  On  the  other  hand,  feeling  may  arise 
from  a  bodily  cause  and  may  be  preceded  or  accom- 
panied by  no  distinct  idea.  Feeling  is  present  in  all 
emotional  states.  It  is  a  thread  on  which  all  other 
states  are  strung  like  beads.  When  representative 
ideas  appear,  the  feeling  in  combination  with  them 


FEELINGS  AND  INTELLECT.  239 

produces  emotion."*  We  shall,  however,  use  the 
terms  interchangeably  in  these  pages. 

The  term  "feeling"  is  used  in  several  different  senses: 
first,  denoting  sensation,  as  when  I  touch  a  piece  of 
marble  and  it  feels  cold,  smooth,  hard,  etc.;  secondly, 
a  mixed  bodily  feeling,  e.  g.,  the  sense  of  comfort, 
weariness,  being  ill  at  ease,  etc. ;  thirdly,  pleasure  and 
pain;  fourthly,  the  aesthetic  feeling  of  beauty  and 
harmony,  as  when  I  observe  a  rose  and  experience  a 
sense  of  beauty,  or  when  I  hear  fine  music  and  experi- 
ence a  sense  of  harmony;  fifthly,  the  moral  feeling, 
namely,  that  of  duty,  ought,  approbation,  remorse, 
etc. 

From  the  variety  of  terminology  employed,  we  may 
infer  that  the  subject  matter  of  this  division  of  psy- 
chology is  somewhat  vague  and  indefinite.  And  we 
also  find  it  so  when  we  study  the  nature  of  the  phe- 
nomena here  classified.  The  feelings  are  in  fact  the 
most  vague  and  elusive  of  all  mental  phenomena. 
Every  person  is  conscious  of  feeling,  but  no  one  can 
determine  exactly  the  nature  of  this  mental  state. 
The  feelings  occupy  a  region  of  psychic  life  which  is  as 
yet  largely  unexplored.  The  difference  between  the 
feelings  and  the  phenomena  of  intellect  is  broad  and 
sharply  marked.  When  I  hold  a  rose  in  my  hand  and 
experience  delight  from  its  beauty  and  fragrance,  my 
consciousness  testifies  that  the  feeling  I  have  is  not 
identical  with  my  perception  and  knowledge  of  the 
rose.  So  when  I  gaze  upon  a  beautiful  picture,  my 
percepts  and  concepts  of  the  picture  are  not  the  same 
as  the  feelings  which  these  awaken  in  my  mind.  Or, 
when  I  listen  to  fine  music,  my  knowledge  of  the 
music  is  one  thing  and  the  feelings  of  which  I  am  con- 
*  Halleck,  "Psychology  and  Psychic  Life." 


240  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

scious  are  something  quite  different.  The  percepts, 
retents,  and  concepts  implied  in  knowledge  are  alto- 
gether different  from  the  feelings  which  always  accom- 
pany knowledge  and  depend  on  knowledge.  Knowl- 
edge is  the  antecedent  state  and  feeling  the  conse- 
quent state  of  mental  activity;  without  perception 
and  conception  there  is  no  feeling;  so,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  is  never  an  act  of  perception  and  concep- 
tion unless  it  be  accompanied  by  some  kind  of  feeling. 

The  various  views  held  by  writers  on  the  subject 
may  be  grouped  under  three  general  theories: 

First,  the  Physiological  Theory,  This  theory  holds  that 
what  we  call  feeling  is  simply  a  peculiar  consciousness 
of  the  condition  or  state  of  the  nervous  system,  that 
the  feelings  are  wholly  nervous  states;  not  only  that 
the  feelings  depend  on  nervous  state,  but  are  identi- 
cal with  these  nervous  states.  This  theory  appears 
in  many  forms.  Some  hold  that  feeling  comes  from 
concord  between  the  stimulus  and  the  vital  activity, 
namely,  that  pleasurable  feelings  arise  from  agree- 
ment, and  painful,  from  disagreement  or  opposition. 
Others  hold  that  painful  feeling  results  from  over- 
stimulation  of  the  nervous  organism.  Still  others 
claim  that  pleasure  attends  the  healthy  action  of  the 
organs  within  the  limits  and  powers  of  repair,  i.  e., 
that  disagreeable  taste,  unpleasant  contrast  of  colors, 
discord  in  sounds,  remorse  of  conscience,  etc.,  arise 
whenever  the  waste  of  nerve  substance  is  greater  than 
the  repair! 

But  surely  these  theories  are  not  satisfactory.  We 
want  our  love  of  kindred  and  friends  to  be  deeper  and 
more  permanent  than  the  ever  changing  nerve-cells. 
We  believe  that  the  feeling  of  beauty  and  the  sweet 
delight  of  concordant  sounds  is  something  more  than 


THE  HERBARTIAN  THEORY.  24! 

the  equable  supply  of  repair  material  in  the  brain- 
cells.  We  have  the  firm  conviction  that  our  sense  of 
ought,  our  feeling  of  approval  when  we  do  right  and 
of  disapproval  or  condemnation  when  we  do  wrong, 
our  reverence  and  love  of  God,  our  holy  joy  from  the 
knowledge  of  forgiven  sins  and  the  adoption  of  grace, 
the  pleasures  of  the  communion  of  saints— that  all 
these  sacred  emotions  of  our  moral  and  religious  life 
are  more  than  the  normal  stimulation  of  the  nervous 
organism  or  the  healthy  action  of  the  organs  within 
the  limits  of  recuperation. 

Secondly,  the  Herbartian  or  Ideational  Theory.  This 
stands  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  several  forms  of 
physiological  theories.  It  claims  that  feelings  are 
dependent  on  the  relations  of  ideas.  It  agrees  with 
the  physiological  theories  in  making  the  feelings 
secondary  states  of  mind,  but  differs  in  that  it  derives 
these  states  from  ideas  and  not  from  nervous  action. 
It  makes  a  sharp  distinction  between  sensation  and 
feeling:  to  the  former  belong  hunger,  thirst,  weariness, 
shivering,  etc.;  to  the  latter,  sympathy,  love,  grati- 
tude, reverence,  etc.  Those  states  of  consciousness 
which  are  grouped  under  sensations  are  due  to 
nervous  action,  while  those  under  the  feelings  result 
from  ideas. 

Freely  stated,  the  principal  points  in  this  theory 
are  as  follows:  Feelings  in  general  are  either  pleas- 
urable or  painful.  Of  whatever  kind  they  may  be, 
they  result  from  the  reciprocal  action  of  ideas  or  con- 
cepts. In  the  stream  of  consciousness  ideas  continu- 
ally come  and  go.  Every  moment  new  concepts  enter 
and  old  ones  are  displaced;  but  the  old  concepts  "do 
not  yield  without  exerting  an  opposition  which  de- 
pends upon  their  own  strength  or  intensity,  and  upon 


242  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

the  strength  of  their  reenforcing  or  assisting  con- 
cepts." Therefore,  there  arises  in  our  consciousness  a 
constant  arrest  and  furthering.  If  these  are  weak 
and  transitory,  they  pass  unnoticed.  If  ideas  inter- 
fere one  with  another,  or  arrest  each  other,  or  inhibit 
each  other,  the  fact  of  such  interference  or  inhibition 
gives  rise  to  a  feeling  of  pain;  if  they  agree  together, 
or  further  each  other,  the  result  is  pleasure.  Hence, 
feeling  is  defined  as  "the  consciousness  of  a  furthering 
or  an  arrest  of  the  movement  of  thought:  when  a 
furthering,  a  feeling  of  pleasure;  when  an  arrest,  a 
feeling  of  pain."* 

As  has  been  pointed  out  before,  the  life  of  the  soul 
is  a  concept  life.  Throughout  our  psychic  life  con- 
cepts come  and  go,  that  is,  they  rise  above  and  sink 
beneath  the  threshold  of  consciousness.  In  this  con- 
tinuous flux  of  concepts  is  to  be  found  the  cause  and 
spring  of  our  emotional  life.  Feeling  is  thus  not  an 
isolated  activity  of  the  soul;  the  feelings  exist  in  and 
with  concepts,  and  without  concepts  they  are  nothing. 
Every  emotion  has  its  origin  in  the  concept-mass. 
Therefore,  the  greater  our  concept-mass,  the  richer 
our  stock  of  ideas,  the  broader  our  experience,  and  so 
on,  the  greater  will  be  our  capacity  for  feeling,  and 
the  higher  will  be  the  quality  of  our  feeling.  "Feeling 
and  cognition  are  psychological  correlatives,  existing 
only  in  coexistence." 

The  reciprocal  action  of  concepts,  rising  and  falling, 
coming  and  going,  furthering  and  arresting  is  a  mat- 
ter of  daily  experience. 

Suppose  I  am  writing  a  poem,  composing  an 
oratorio,  painting  a  picture,  building  a  cathedral, 
constructing  a  railroad,  managing  a  bank  or  dry 

*  Lindner,  "Empirical  Psychology." 


FEELING  AS  ORIGINAL  AND  UNDERIVED.  248 

goods  house,  or  doing  anything  else  in  the  whole 
round  of  human  employment,  the  feelings  which  I 
experience  in  the  midst  of  my  work  are  a  history  of 
the  conflict  of  concepts,  some  circumstances  further- 
ing and  others  arresting  my  concepts  as  they  were 
struggling  upward  out  of  my  subjective  ideal  world 
into  objective  realization;  and  parallel  and  coincident 
with  this  history  of  the  conflict  of  concepts  is  also  a 
history  of  pleasure  and  pain,  satisfaction  and  disap- 
pointment, joy  and  sorrow. 

The  Herbartian  theory  in  the  main  represents  the 
facts  about  the  feelings  and  emotions  quite  correctly. 
With  a  few  modifications,  which,  however,  are  of  con- 
siderable importance,  we  may  accept  it  as  a  conven- 
ient theory,  bearing  in  mind  at  the  same  time  that  it 
is  only  a  theory,  since  nothing  final  as  yet  is  known 
concerning  the  essential  nature  of  this  class  of  mental 
phenomena. 

Thirdly,  Feeling  as  Original  and  Underived.  According 
to  a  third  theory,  feeling  is  not  derived,  on  the  one 
hand,  from  processes  of  nervous  action,  nor  on  the 
other  hand,  from  processes  of  furthering  or  arresting 
concepts,  i.  e.,  ideation;  but  it  is  an  original  and  un- 
derived  form  of  consciousness,  as  thought  itself  is 
original  and  underived.  A  definition  of  what  feeling 
is  can  come  only  from  having  felt  the  feeling,  just  as 
a  definition  of  thought  can  rest  only  on  actual  experi- 
ence of  the  thinking  act.  "Feeling,"  says  Prof.  Ladd, 
"is  a  primitive  and  underived  mode  of  the  operation 
of  conscious  mind." 

Such,  then,  are  the  three  classes  of  theories  in  regard 
to  the  nature  of  the  feelings.  Each  of  them  has 
strong  elements  of  truth,  but  no  one  has  all  the  truth. 
We  may  mention  a  few  facts,  which  we  regard  as  fun- 


244  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

damental,  whatever  the  theory  we  accept.  Whenever 
there  is  any  mental  action,  no  matter  of  what  kind 
or  of  what  degree,  there  is  always  a  certain  feeling 
accompanying  the  act  of  thought.  There  is  also 
some  proportion  between  the  intensity  of  thought 
and  that  of  the  attendant  feeling.  This  would  seem 
to  suggest  that  there  is  a  causal  connection  between 
thought  and  feeling;  and  the  more  probable  view  is 
that  the  thought  causes  the  feeling,  and  not  feeling 
the  thought.  Contrary  to  the  assumptions  of  the 
physiological  theory,  we  have  no  hesitancy  in  affirm- 
ing that  feeling  depends  on  and  is  conditioned  in, 
concepts.  The  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  I  have  lost 
my  fortune,  my  reputation,  my  friend,  causes  the  feel- 
ing of  sadness,  and  therefore  I  weep;  the  experience, 
i.  e.,  the  known  fact,  of  meeting  the  dangerous  bear 
causes  the  feeling  of  fear,  and  therefore  I  run;  the 
concept  of  the  ruffian  insulting  me  causes  the  feeling 
of  anger,  and  therefore  I  strike.  In  all  these  cases  the 
cognitive  act  is  antecedent;  from  that  results  the  feel- 
ing; and  then  follows  the  bodily  action. 

General  Characteristics.  Five  general  characteristics 
or  marks  of  the  feelings  are  distinguished,  namely, 
Content,  Tone,  Intensity,  Rhythm,  and  Duration. 
These  distinctions  are  useful  mainly  for  purposes  of 
anlysis  and  study. 

By  Content  we  mean  the  kind  or  quality  of  the  feel- 
ing, that  is,  whether  bitter,  sweet,  sour;  whether  that 
of  anger,  avarice,  hate,  joy,  grief,  love,  patriotism, 
approbation,  remorse;  whether  an  effect  produced  by 
a  major  chord  or  a  minor  chord,  by  a  dark  gray  or  a 
dull  brown  or  a  bright  red  color,  etc.  Not  all  the 
feelings  can  be  thus  qualitatively  analyzed,  since 
many  of  them  arise  from  obscure  concepts.  In  gen- 


GENERAL  CHARACTERISTICS.  245 

eral,  the  quality  of  feelings  will  be  sharply  marked  in 
proportion  as  the  concepts  which  produce  them  are 
clear  and  distinct. 

By  Tone  of  feeling  is  meant  whether  the  feeling  is 
agreeable  or  disagreeable,  pleasurable  or  painful. 
The  question  has  arisen  and  is  sharply  debated 
whether  there  are  some  feelings  which  are  neutral  as 
to  tone,  that  is,  neither  agreeable  nor  disagreeable- 
feelings  at  zero  point  in  the  scale  of  tonicity.  Prof. 
Wundt  argues  in  favor  of  the  existence  of  such  a  neu- 
tral class.  Another  author  says,  "Painful  feelings 
shade  toward  pleasurable  feelings,  by  less  and  less 
degrees  of  pain,  and  pleasurable  feelings  shade  away 
from  the  least  observably  painful,  by  greater  and 
greater  degrees  of  pleasure. "  If  so,  then  there  must 
be  a  point  where  the  feelings  are  neutral  in  tone.  It 
appears  that  both  the  physiological  and  the  idea- 
tional  aspects  of  feeling  favor  this  view,  and  that 
consciousness  adds  its  testimony  on  this  side  of  the 
question.  It  is  possible  that  there  may  be  sub-con- 
scious feelings,  just  as  there  is  a  flow  of  concepts  be- 
low the  threshold  of  consciousness! 

Intensity  means  the  quantity  or  degree  of  feeling, 
in  other  words,  the  strength  of  feeling.  We  are  con- 
scious of  different  degrees  of  pain  or  pleasure,  joy  or 
grief,  love  or  hate.  All  the  various  feelings  may  be  of 
low  intensity,  or  they  may  rise  into  the  height  and 
strength  of  passions.  A  given  musical  chord,  which 
under  ordinary  circumstances  gives  rise  to  a  quiet 
even  flow  of  pleasurable  emotion,  may  under  certain 
circumstances  cause  in  the  mind  of  the  hearer  a  state 
of  rapture,  a  very  frenzy  of  delight.  According  to  the 
Herbartian  theory,  the  intensity  of  feeling  depends 
upon  the  liveliness  of  promotion  and  expression,  the 


246  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

intensity  of  opposing  and  furthering  concepts.  "The 
most  intense  feelings  arise  when  the  most  numerous 
and  most  powerful  furthering  concepts  meet  with  the 
most  numerous  and  most  powerful  opposing  con- 
cepts." 

By  Rhythm  of  the  feelings  we  mean  the  alternating 
character  of  pain  and  pleasure,  grief  and  joy,  etc.  As  in 
all  other  modes  of  mental  activity,  so  also  in  the  feel- 
ings we  observe  the  time-form;  all  our  mental  states 
appear  in  consciousness  with  a  well  marked  periodic- 
ity. Sudden  elevation  of  the  feelings  is  followed  by 
excessive  depression.  The  rhythmical  flow  of  feeling 
is  but  one  instance  of  the  universal  law  of  rhythm  in 
nature.  Philosophers  have  pointed  out  that  all  mo- 
tion is  rhythmical  or  wave-like.  In  every  rivulet,  as 
in  the  course  of  every  great  river,  the  bends  of  the 
stream  from  side  to  side  throughout  its  tortuous 
course  constitute  a  lateral  undulation — an  undula- 
tion so  inevitable  that  even  an  artificially  straight- 
ened channel  is  eventually  changed  into  a  serpentine 
one.  The  surface  of  the  earth  is  undulatory, — a 
mountain  here,  a  valley  there.  The  sound  which  re- 
sults from  drawing  a  bow  across  the  violin  strings, 
or  from  forcing  a  volume  of  air  into  the  organ-pipe, 
or  from  striking  a  bell,  is  produced  by  undulations  in 
the  agitated  body  and  transmitted  thence  to  the  ear 
by  wave-like  movements  in  the  air  or  other  elastic 
medium.  Light  and  heat  from  the  sun  come  to  us  in 
undulations.  The  Aurora  Borealis  is  observed  to 
pulsate  with  alternating  waves  of  greater  or  less 
degree  of  brightness.  The  planets,  satellites,  and 
comets  afford  us  an  illustration  on  a  grand  scale  of 
this  law  of  rhythmical  movement.  No  wonder  that 
the  ancients  conceived  of  the  "music  of  the  spheres." 


THE  LAW  OF  RHYTHM.  247 

The  tides  of  the  ocean  flow  and  ebb.  The  seasons  of 
the  year,  the  alternation  of  day  and  night,  succeed 
each  other  in  rhythmical  order.  The  blood  in  the 
body  is  propelled  not  in  a  uniform  current  but  in 
pulses  caused  by  systole  and  diastole  of  the  heart; 
and  it  is  aerated  by  lungs  which  alternately  expand 
and  contract  with  every  inhalation  and  exhalation 
of  breath.  Human  life,  physical,  social,  and  religious 
follows  the  wave-like  form  of  movement.  History  is 
rhythmical — periods  of  activity  follow  those  of  rest 
as  spring  follows  winter,  business  prosperity  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  season  of  crisis,  reformation  succeeds  re- 
ligious stagnation,  missionary  zeal  gives  way  to 
indifference.  The  same  oscillatory  movement  is  ob- 
served in  all  our  mental  states.  The  action  of 
thought  is  not  uniform  but  within  a  given  period 
passes  through  varying  intervals  of  increasing  and 
decreasing  intensity.  The  current  of  mental  energy 
as  seen  in  the  outflow  of  emotion  into  poetry,  music, 
and  their  corresponding  movements  of  body  and 
voice,  is  not  continuous,  but  falls  into  a  succession  of 
pulses.  Poetry  is  a  form  of  expression  which  results 
when  the  emphasis  is  regularly  recurrent,  accented 
and  unaccented  syllables  following  hi  orderly  succes- 
sion. 

Music,  in  still  more  various  ways,  exemplifies  the 
law.  There  are  the  recurring  bars,  in  each  of  which 
there  is  a  primary  and  a  secondary  beat.  There  is 
the  alternate  increase  and  decrease  of  muscular  strain, 
implied  by  the  ascents  and  descents  to  the  higher  and 
lower  notes  —  ascents  and  descents  composed  of 
smaller  waves,  breaking  the  rises  and  falls  of  the 
larger  ones,  in  a  mode  peculiar  to  each  melody.  And 
then  we  have,  further,  the  alternation  of  piano  and 


248  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

forte  passages.  That  these  several  kinds  of  rhythm, 
characterizing  aesthetic  expression,  are  not,  in  the 
common  sense  of  the  word,  artificial,  but  are  intenser 
forms  of  an  undulatory  movement  habitually  gener- 
ated by  feeling  in  its  bodily  discharge,  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  they  are  all  traceable  in  ordinary  speech, 
which  in  every  sentence  has  its  primary  and  secondary 
emphasis,  and  its  cadence  containing  a  chief  rise  and 
fall  complicated  with  subordinate  rises  and  falls;  and 
which  is  accompanied  by  a  more  or  less  oscillatory 
action  of  the  limbs  when  the  emotion  is  great.  Pain 
having  its  origin  in  bodily  disorder,  is  nearly  always 
perceptibly  rhythmical.  During  hours  in  which  it 
never  actually  ceases,  it  has  its  variations  of  in- 
tensity— fits  of  paroxysms;  and  then  after  these  hours 
of  suffering  there  usually  come  hours  of  comparative 
ease.  Moral  pain  has  the  like  smaller  and  larger 
waves.  One  possessed  by  intense  grief  does  not  utter 
continuous  moans,  or  shed  tears  with  an  equable 
rapidity;  but  these  signs  of  passion  come  in  recurring 
bursts.  Then  after  a  time  during  which  such  stronger 
and  weaker  waves  of  emotion  alternate,  there  comes 
a  calm— a  time  of  comparative  deadness;  to  which 
again  succeeds  another  interval,  when  dull  sorrow 
rises  afresh  into  acute  anguish,  with  its  series  of 
paroxysms.  Similarly  in  great  delight,  especially  as 
manifested  by  children  who  have  its  display  less 
under  control,  there  are  visible  variations  in  the  in- 
tensity of  feeling  shown — fits  of  laughter  and  dancing 
about,  separated  by  pauses  in  which  smiles  and  other 
slight  manifestations  of  pleasure  suffice  to  discharge 
the  lessened  excitement.  Nor  are  there  wanting  evi- 
dences of  mental  undulations  greater  in  length  than 
any  of  these — undulations  which  take  weeks,  or 


DURATION  OF  FEELING. 


249 


months,  or  years,  to  complete  themselves.  Men  have 
their  moods  which  recur  at  intervals.  Very  many 
persons  have  their  epochs  of  vivacity  and  depression. 
There  are  periods  of  industry  following  periods  of 
idleness;  and  times  at  which  particular  subjects  or 
tastes  are  cultivated  with  zeal,  alternating- with  times 
at  which  they  are  neglected.* 

Dr.  Thaddeus  L.  Bolton  of  Clark  University,  a  friend 
and  former  pupil  of  the  author,  has  investigated  ex- 
perimentally the  subject  of  "Rhythm"  and  has  pub- 
lished in  pamphlet  form  the  results  of  his  researches. 
Many  interesting  facts  concerning  rhythm  are  here 
brought  out,  especially  in  their  relation  to  music  and 
the  general  world  of  aesthetics.  This  experimenter 
finds  that  Rhythm  is  "the  manifestation  or  the  form 
of  the  most  fundamental  activities  of  mind;"**  that 
the  accents  and  cadences  of  music  and  poetry  are  the 
natural,  inevitable  results  of  this  law  of  rhythm  ac- 
cording to  which  thought  and  feeling  express  them- 
selves. 

The  fifth  and  last  characteristic  of  the  feelings  is 
Duration,  by  which  is  meant  the  length  of  time  a  feel- 
ing lasts.  Some  feelings  are  short-lived,  while  others 
continue  a  longer  period.  The  duration  depends  upon 
the  character  of  the  concepts  which  give  rise  to  the 
particular  feeling.  Sensations  we  know  are  very  in- 
tense while  they  last,  but  their  power  ceases  with  the 
sense-impression.  Joy,  sorrow,  hope,  love,  which 
have  their  origin  in  sentient  experience  are  transient 
in  their  nature.  Much  more  lasting  are  those  feelings 
which  have  their  seat,  not  in  immediate  sense  impres- 
sions, but  in  extensive,  widely  branching,  and  deeply 

*  Spencer,  ''First  Principles." 
**  See  "Amer.  Jour.  Psych.,1'  1893,  VI,  214. 


250  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

involved  groups  of  concepts.  Human  affection  which 
springs  solely  from  the  fascination  of  enticing  out- 
ward appearances,  such  as  physical  beauty,  a  fine 
physique,  graceful  manners,  elegant  dress,  a  sweet 
voice,  captivating  smiles,  and  the  like,  all  of  which 
appeal  to  the  senses,  is  apt  to  be  superficial  in  char- 
acter and  of  short  duration.  Personal  attractions 
which  are  only  skin-deep  will  soon  fade  away,  or  even 
worse,  may  be  succeeded  by  a  positive  aversion. 
Love,  to  be  permanent,  must  be  grounded  in  concepts 
of  personal  worth,  of  character— concepts,  which  have 
for  their  substance  the  admirable  qualities  of  the 
inner  soul-life.  So  the  joy  and  zeal  of  a  religious 
profession  which  rests  only  upon  the  outward  sentient 
phases  of  religion,  will  soon  spend  their  force  and 
lapse  into  a  state  of  apathy  or  even  scepticism.  A 
Christian  profession,  in  order  to  be  lasting  and  fruit- 
ful, must  have  its  root  deep  down  in  a  widely  branch- 
ing, extensive  concept-system  of  sound  doctrine  and 
of  intelligent  personal  experience. 

The  pleasure  which  the  lighter  kinds  of  music  yield 
—music,  which  is  brilliant  and  fascinating  and  ravish- 
ing, which  intoxicates  the  senses,  which  consists  in 
sound  only— soon  passes  away  and  leaves  behind  an 
aching  void,  perhaps  a  feeling  of  disgust.  It  is  sad 
that  in  our  day  the  light,  fantastic,  rattling  kind  of 
music  which  appeals  only  to  the  senses,  has  found  a 
place  in  our  sacred  songs  and  church  hymns,  to  the 
exclusion  in  many  cases  of  those  solid  old  melodies 
and  chorals  and  minor  tunes  which  are  solemn  and 
deep  and  lift  the  soul  of  the  worshiper  into  sweet 
communion  with  the  Heavenly  Father.  The  former, 
like  bodily  stimulants,  excite  the  lower  sentient  feel- 
ings, which  soon  pass  away  and  leave  a  morbid  crav- 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  FEELINGS.  251 

ing  for  greater  stimulation:  the  latter  edify  the  soul 
and  bring  lasting  joy  and  comfort.  This  is  not  a  cry 
of  the  "old  fogy"  against  the  innovations  of  progress, 
but  it  is  the  earnest  voice  of  all  lovers  of  good  music 
and  of  true  worship  against  the  frivolities  and  abuses 
of  the  sense-intoxicated  present. 

Classification  of  the  Feelings.  Many  plans  and  schemes 
of  classification  have  been  suggested.  All  of  them 
have  some  value.  For  all  purposes  the  following 
scheme  is  deemed  most  suitable,  namely,  the  Sensu- 
ous, the  Intellectual,  the  Aesthetic,  and  the  Moral 
feelings. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  these  divisions  are  not 
absolute,  and  in  the  nature  of  the  case  cannot  be. 
There  are  gradations  of  feeling,  and  consequently 
they  cannot  be  sharply  limited  to  any  one  subdivision 
of  any  scheme  of  classification.  The  different  kinds 
of  feelings  shade  off  into  each  other  by  imperceptible 
degrees.  The  sensuous  cannot  be  wholly  separated 
from  the  aesthetic;  the  bare  sensation  of  sound,  for 
example,  cannot  be  entirely  dissociated  from  the 
higher  sense  of  harmony,  so  also  the  sensation  of 
colors  cannot  be  isolated  from  the  feeling  of  beauty. 
Even  the  moral  feelings  are  mixed  more  or  less  with 
the  other  feelings  which  have  a  bodily  basis  and 
origin;  for  example,  love  involves  both  the  bodily  and 
the  spiritual  elements. 

Some  feelings  depend  on  the  condition  of  the  ner- 
vous sj^stem  to  such  a  degree  that  we  may  call  them 
instinctive.  Prof.  James  Mark  Baldwin  says:  "Ner- 
vous reactions  become  organized  in  subconscious 
motor  intuitions;  mental  reactions  become  organized 
in  perceptions,  subconscious  beliefs,  and  interests; 
so  emotions  take  on  mentally  subconscious  forms. 


252  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

They  become  so  habitual  as  to  be  unremarked  except 
when  some  new  occasion  calls  them  out  in  the  shape 
of  emotional  excitement."*  To  this  sub-class  may  be 
referred  all  cases  of  so-called  "objectless  emotions." 
The  acts  here  referred  to  rest  on  feelings  which  have 
for  their  origin  sub-conscious  concepts.  It  is  to  be 
further  remarked  that  our  adopted  scheme  of  classi- 
fication rests  on  the  nature  of  the  concepts  which  give 
rise  respectively  to  the  several  kinds  of  feeling. 

The  Sensuous  Fee/ings.  To  the  sensuous  class  belong 
all  those  feelings  which  are  connected  with  the  vari- 
ous sensations.  They  have  a  strong  affinity  to  the 
mere  bodily  sensations  from  which  it  is  sometimes 
difficult  to  distinguish  them.  "Those  sensations  of 
the  higher  senses  having  the  most  positive  tone,  as 
those  of  color  and  sound,  are  in  themselves  accom- 
panied by  sensuous  feelings.  The  pleasure  in  the 
sense  of  sight  reveals  itself  in  the  pleasure  we  take  in 
light  and  color,  while  darkness  and  imperfect  colors 
are  accompanied  by  unpleasant  feelings.  The  mod- 
erate light  of  day,  the  mild  light  of  the  full  moon,  the 
soft  light  of  the  heavens,  as  also  the  gleam  of  illumin- 
ations, the  splendor  of  fireworks,  awaken  in  man  the 
pleasure  in  light,  whereas  the  darkness  of  the  night 
and  of  the  prison  cell  lies  heavy  upon  the  soul." — 
Lindner.  So  the  pleasure  in  light  and  color  is  analo- 
gous to  that  which  we  experience  in  tone  and  sound. 
Stillness  depresses  like  darkness;  full,  pure,  prolonged 
tones  affect  us  like  full,  rich  colors.  In  all  kinds  of 
sensations  there  is  an  attendant  feeling,  which,  though 
closely  connected  with  the  sensation,  is  yet  different 
from  the  sensation. 


*  Baldwin,  "Elements  of  Psychology.5' 


THE  INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS.  253 

The  /ntef/ectua/  Feelings.  The  Intellectual  feelings  are 
those  which  are  connected  with  the  activities  of  judg- 
ment, reflection,  and  reasoning.  They  are  such  as 
accompany  the  development  of  our  mental  faculties, 
the  growth  of  our  convictions,  the  acquisition  of  new 
facts,  the  progress  of  scientific  knowledge.  The 
feeling  of  pleasure  and  satisfaction  we  experience  hi 
the  solution  of  a  difficult  problem  is  an  illustration 
familiar  to  all.  It  was  this  feeling  that  caused  the 
old  philosopher  Archimedes,  pondering  upon  the 
problem  of  the  golden  crown,  when  the  truth  flashed 
into  his  mind,  to  leap  out  of  the  bath  tub,  and,  in  a 
frenzy  of  delight,  rush  through  the  streets  crying 
"Eureka!  Eureka!"  It  is  this  feeling  of  pleasure  in- 
cident to  the  discovery  of  new  things,  that  has  urged 
the  explorers  and  discoverers  of  all  ages  to  risk  their 
lives,  their  all,  in  the  effort  to  add  to  the  known  some 
facts  wrested  from  the  realms  of  the  unknown.  It  is 
the  love  of  truth  that  stimulates  the  philosopher,  the 
scientist,  the  historian  to  deny  the  vulgar  pleasures 
of  sense  that  they  may  enrich  the  world's  storehouse 
of  knowledge  with  the  rare  treasures  of  thought  and 
labor. 

There  was,  probably,  not  a  happier  moment  in 
Newton's  life  than  when  he  had  succeeded  in  demon- 
strating that  the  same  power  which  caused  the  apple 
to  fall,  held  the  moon  and  the  planets  in  their  orbits. 
When  Watt  discovered  that  steam  might  be  harnessed 
like  a  horse;  when  an  inventor  succeeds  in  perfecting 
a  labor-lightening  device;  whenever  an  obscurity  is 
cleared  away,  the  reason  for  a  thing  understood,  and 
a  baffling  instance  brought  under  the  general  law,— 
intellectual  emotion  results." 

When    Kepler    finished    the    calculations    which 


254  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

brought  clearly  into  view  the  third  of  his  celebrated 
laws,  it  is  said  that  such  was  the  transport  with 
which  this  discovery,  which  for  17  years  had  baffled 
all  his  skill  and  patience,  filled  him,  that  he  burst 
into  tears  and  marked  the  day  and  year,  May  15, 
1618,  when  this  great  truth  became  known  to  him. 
The  composition  of  his  book,  "The  Harmonies  of  the 
World."  he  tells  us  yielded  more  pleasure  than  all  its 
readers  together  could  experience  in  its  perusal.  In 
the  last  pages  of  the  book  the  genius  of  the  inspired 
dreamer  awakens  suddenly  from  the  dry  details  of 
facts  to  dictate  to  him  those  bold  and  august  ex- 
pressions which  have  become  not  less  immortal  than 
the  discovery  which  they  herald,  and  which  disclose 
to  us  the  high  feelings  that  possessed  his  soul  in  the 
midst  of  labors: 

"Eight  months  since  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the  first  ray 
of  light;  six  months  since  I  saw  the  dawn;  a  few  days 
ago  only  did  the  sun  arise  in  its  transcendent  glory. 
I  give  myself  up  to  my  enthusiasm,  and  venture  to 
brave  my  fellow-mortals  by  the  ingenuous  avowal 
that  I  have  stolen  the  golden  vessels  of  the  Egyptians 
in  order  to  raise  a  tabernacle  to  my  God  far  from  the 
confines  of  Egypt.  If  I  am  pardoned  I  shall  rejoice  at 
it;  if  it  is  made  a  reproach  to  me  I  shall  bear  it;  the 
die  is  cast.  I  write  my  book,  wiiether  it  be  read  by 
the  present  age  or  by  posterity  imports  little;  it  may 
well  await  a  reader;  has  not  God  waited  six  thousand 
years  for  an  observer  of  his  works?" 

Our  Saviour  says:  "A  woman  when  she  is  in  travail 
hath  sorrow,  because  her  hour  is  come:  but  as  soon 
as  she  is  delivered  of  the  child,  she  remembereth  no 
more  the  anguish,  for  joy  that  a  man  is  born  into  the 
world."  So  when  by  travail  and  by  anguish  of  soul  a 


THE  AESTHETIC  FEELINGS.  255 

great  truth  is  born  into  the  world  of  science,  the  mem- 
ory of  past  sorrows  and  labors  is  swallowed  up  in  the 
abundance  of  joy. 

The  poet  Keats  in  beautiful  terms  describes  his 
emotions  on  the  discovery  of  new  literary  treasures: 

"Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken." 

So  the  following  example  from  Wordsworth  shows 
how  the  intellectual  emotions  '  accompany  in  a  high 
degree  the  study  of  poetry: 

"I  have  seen 

A  curious  child,  who  dwelt  upon  a  tract 
Of  inland  ground,  applying  to  his  ear 
The  convolutions  of  a  smooth-lipped  shell: 
To  which,  in  silence  hushed,  his  very  soul 
Listened  intensely— and  his  countenance  soon 
Brightened  with  joy;  for  murmurings  from  within 
Were  heard,  sonorous  cadences!  whereby, 
To  his  belief,  the  monitor  expressed 
Mysterious  union  with  its  native  sea. 
Even  such  a  shell  the  universe  itself 
Is  to  the  ear  of  Faith." 

— The  Excursion,  Bk.  IV. 

The  Aesthetic  Feelings.  The  Aesthetic  feelings  are 
those  which  are  awakened  by  the  perception  of  the 
beautiful.  We  posit  an  aesthetic  faculty,  that  is,  a 
distinct  mode  of  perceptive  and  conceptive  mental 
activity,  whose  particular  function  it  is  to  discern 
and  appreciate  the  beautiful  in  art  and  nature.  This 
faculty,  like  the  other  faculties,  has  its  appropriate 
feeling  attendant  upon  its  activity,  and  this  we  call 
the  aesthetic  feeling.  WTundt  and  others  distinguish 
between  the  lower  and  the  higher  aesthetic  emotion; 
meaning  by  the  former  that  which  is  connected  with 
the  more  sensuous  experience  and  is  almost  wholly 


256  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

formal,  while  the  latter  includes  the  more  representa- 
tive experiences,  as  having  meaning. 

The  Aesthetic  feelings  have  certain  characteristics 
by  which  they  are  sharply  distinguished  from  other 
feelings.  They  consist  in  the  unconditioned  valuation 
of  an  object,  that  is,  for  the  sake  of  its  intrinsic 
merits,  arising  from  its  direct  apprehension  by  the 
senses,  and  free  from  the  subordinate  external  inter- 
ests, which  announces  itself  as  pleasure  in  the  beauti- 
ful or  displeasure  in  the  ugly.  They  are  thus  the  least 
selfish  of  all  the  emotions. 

They  are  further  distinguished  from  the  simply 
agreeable  and  disagreeable  by  the  fact  that  they  do 
not  depend  upon  the  content  of  the  individual,  but 
upon  the  form  of  the  composite.  A  single  note 
sounded  by  itself  maybe  agreeable,  but  when  sounded 
with  others  so  as  to  make  a  musical  chord  the  effect 
is  beautiful,  and  is  felt  to  be  quite  different  from  that 
produced  by  individual  tones.  The  beauty  of  the 
magnificent  cathedral  at  Cologne  does  not  consist  in 
the  individual  stones,  pieces  of  timber,  glass,  etc.,  of 
which  it  is  made,  nor  in  a  single  column,  arch,  or 
window,  though  pleasing  in  themselves;  it  consists 
rather  in  the  orderly  arrangement  of  all  the  parts 
into  one  harmonious  whole.  The  beauty  of  the  rose 
does  not  consist  in  the  color  or  shape  of  the  petals, 
but  in  the  combination  of  its  parts.  The  beauty  of 
the  landscape  is  not  in  single  trees,  or  shrubs,  or 
rocks  or  bodies  of  water,  but  in  the  happy  grouping 
of  them  all  according  to  recognized  principles  of  art. 
So  with  the  picture,  the  statue,  the  poem;  the  aes- 
thetic effect  depends  upon  the  form  of  the  composite 
whole. 

This  bringing  together  of  individual  things  into 


THE  WORLD  OF  BEAUTY.  257 

one  whole,  this  agreement  among  the  manifold,  this 
concord  of  the  different,  we  call  harmony.  Harmony 
is,  therefore,  the  ground  principle  of  the  aesthetic 
feeling.  * 'Since  the  simple  is  everywhere  aesthetically 
indifferent,  relations  must  form  the  object  of  aesthetic 
preference  or  rejection;  with  tones  it  is  the  relation 
of  the  numbers  expressing  their  vibrations  which 
decides  regarding  their  harmony  or  discord.  The 
simpler  this  relation,  e.  g.,  the  octave  (vibrations  1:2), 
the  more  easily  is  the  harmony  perceived,  the  more 
complete  is  the  agreement."  But  the  simplest  rela- 
tion, as  in  the  case  of  the  octave  of  a  given  note,  does 
not  yield  the  highest  degree  of  aesthetic  pleasure. 
Hence,  a  writer  observes,  "when  tones  which  are 
originally  discordant  are  brought  together  in  an 
accord,  or  where  different  chords  are  blended  into 
greater  totality  of  tone,  this  reconciliation  of  differ- 
ences is  especially  apparent.  This  explains  the  reso- 
lution of  dissonance  in  a  piece  of  music,  as  well  as  the 
harmonizing  of  conflict  in  that  species  of  the  beauti- 
ful which  is  called  the  tragic." 

It  may  be  further  remarked  that  the  enjoyment  of 
aesthetic  pleasure  is  not  restricted  to  one  or  two  per- 
sons; neither  are  the  'objects  which  awaken  the  aes- 
thetic feeling  the  exclusive  possession  of  the  favored 
few— they  are  open  to  the  whole  human  race.  A  pic- 
ture or  a  statue  may  be  seen  by  millions,  and  the 
beauty  is  in  no  wise  impaired  or  lessened;  a  great 
poem  reaches  all  that  understand  the  language  in 
which  it  is  written,  and  many  more;  a  fine  melody 
may  spread  pleasure  over  the  habitable  globe;  the 
sunset  and  the  stars  are  veiled  only  from  the  prisoner 
and  the  blind. 

And  the  world  of  beauty  is  not  confined  to  art  gal- 

Psycholoov  17 


258  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

leries  and  libraries  and  concert  halls.  Nature  in  her 
visible  forms  everywhere  is  beautiful  and  invites  the 
admiration  of  all.  The  mountains  and  valleys,  the 
forests  and  streams,  the  starry  heavens,  the  crystals 
of  the  grotto,  the  sculpture  of  the  snow-flake,  the 
tracery  of  the  forest,  the  richly  tinted  autumn  leaves, 
the  flowers  of  the  garden  and  meadow,  the  plumage 
of  the  birds,  the  vari-colored  insects,— wherever  we 
go,  wherever  we  look,  the  great  world  of  beauty  lies 
spread  out  before  our  gaze  and  appeals  to  our  sense 
of  the  aesthetic.  And  then,  what  a  grand  concert  hall 
is  nature!  Not  alone  the  'music  of  the  spheres'  as 
they  go  singing  in  their  orbits,  but  music  from  every 
source  steals  into  the  ear  of  the  attentive  listener — 
the  sweet  music  of  the  feathered  songsters,  the  deep 
organ  tones  of  the  ocean  and  the  tempest,  the  silvery 
notes  of  the  dancing  rivulet,  the  majestic  sound  of 
the  waterfall,  the  awful  sub-bass  of  the  thunder  peal, 
the  plaintive  sighing  of  the  breezes— music  every  where 
in  the  great  world  of  harmony. 

"There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 

But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 

Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubims, 

Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls, 

But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 

Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it." 

—Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  V. 

Several  elements  enter  into  aesthetic  enjoyment, 
namely,  the  sensuous,  the  intellectual,  and  the  asso- 
ciative. The  sensuous  relates  to  the  experience  of 
pleasure  from  the  direct  action  of  colors  or  sounds 
upon  their  respective  nerves  without  the  intervention 
of  thought.  Pleasure  follows  immediately  upon  the 
perception  of  beautiful  objects.  This  does  not  mean, 


ELEMENTS  OF  AESTHETIC  ENJOYMENT.  259 

however,  that  the  feeling  of  pleasure  arises  in  such 
cases  independent  of  concepts,  but  simply  that  the 
concepts  are  not  distinctly  in  consciousness,  as  is  the 
case  in  all  thought  processes.  Some  have  thought 
that  the  aesthetic  delights  which  come  from  hearing 
music  are  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  "harmony  grati- 
fies certain  simple  sensibilities  of  the  nerves  of  the 
ear."  There  may  be  truth  in  this  hypothesis,  but 
certainly  it  is  a  very  low  kind  of  musical  pleasure 
which  comes  from  such  a  source. 

The  intellectual  element  in  aesthethic  pleasure  is 
that  which  thought  or  knowledge  contributes.  When 
I  view  a  picture  or  hear  a  piece  of  music  and  have  ac- 
curate knowledge  concerning  it— know  all  about  its 
author,  its  history,  its  design,  its  thought-contents— 
I  experience  a  higher  kind  of  pleasure  than  when  I  am 
ignorant  of  it.  A  highly  cultured  audience  has  a 
keener  enjoyment  of  the  best  music  than  a  rude  or 
uncultured  one.  This  is  one  reason  why  classic  music 
is  not  more  appreciated  by  the  average  hearer,  and 
why  the  rustic  sees  nothing  attractive  in  a  collection 
of  fine  paintings— these  things  do  not  appeal  to  his 
feelings  because  his  intelligence  does  not  rise  to  the 
plain  in  which  the  noble  ideas  were  conceived.  Raise 
the  tone  of  art-intelligence  in  the  popular  mind,  and 
the  popular  audience  will  appreciate  the  higher  class 
of  music. 

The  associative  element  is  that  which  comes  from 
the  association  of  ideas  or  objects  or  experiences  with 
the  thing  that  is  the  immediate  cause  of  aesthetic 
pleasure.  This  principle  has  been  fully  developed  in 
the  chapter  on  Association,  and  so  needs  but  little 
more  here.  There  we  saw  how  the  stream  of  our  ideas 
is  a  series  of  connected  concepts,  any  one  of  which 


260  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

may  bring  back  to  consciousness  all  the  rest.  Not 
only  are  ideas  associated;  feelings  are  also  associated 
with  ideas  and  with  one  another.  We  gave  examples 
to  show  the  power  of  music  and  stated  that  the  ex- 
planation of  this  wonderful  power  was  to  be  found  in 
the  principle  of  association.  We  are  now  prepared  to 
understand  that  statement  in  its  fuller  scope.  Asso- 
ciated ideas  give  rise  to  associated  feelings,  and  these 
feelings  are  the  springs  of  action,  both  in  the  lower 
nerve-centers  and  in  the  higher  will. 

Mr.  Longfellow  says:  "Of  all  the  rivers  of  this  beau- 
tiful earth,  there  is  none  so  beautiful  as  the  Rhine. 
There  is  hardly  a  league  of  its  whole  course,  from  its 
cradle  in  the  snowy  Alps  to  its  grave  in  the  sands  of 
Holland,  which  boasts  not  its  peculiar  charms."  And 
what  is  it  that  gives  this  river  its  'peculiar  charms'? 
The  scenery  is  beautiful  and  picturesque  in  the  ex- 
treme, with  here  a  high  jutting  crag  and  there  a  deep 
gorge,  or  receding  narrow  valley,  with  its  quaint  lit- 
tle cities  and  its  vine-clad  slopes,  with  its  meandering 
stream  and  its  castle-crowned  rock  walls.  But  far 
more  than  all  these,  it  is  the  interesting  legends  and 
stories  and  the  historical  events  associated  with  these 
old  castles  and  rocks  and  towns  that  make  this  river 
so  charming  among  the  rivers  of  the  earth.  The  cas- 
tle of  Ingelbeim  with  its  legend  of  Emma  and  Egin- 
hard;  the  Rheinstein  with  its  thrilling  romance  of 
Sigfrid  and  Gerda;  the  little  village  of  Kaub  with  its 
historical  memory  as  the  place  where  Field-Marshal 
Blucher  on  New-year's  eve,  1813,  began  to  cross  the 
Rhine  in  order,  as  he  relates,  "to  wash  out  the  dis- 
grace of  bondage  in  this  proud  stream;"  Gutenfels 
with  its  story  of  Guta  and  King  Richard  of  Cornwall; 
Sternberg  and  Liebenstein  with  their  pathetic  legend 


ASSOCIATION  HEIGHTENS  BEAUTY.  261 

of  the  two  Brothers  and  Minna;  the  stronghold  of 
Stolzenfels  with  its  wonderful  tales  of  ghosts  and 
witchcraft  and  the  story  of  Elsbeth;  Ahrenfels,  and 
the  Dracbenfels;  classic  old  Bonn,  with  its  renowned 
university;  Cologne  with  its  wonderful  cathedral: 
Worms  with  its  Luther-Monument  and  its  memory 
of  * 'Here  I  stand,  I  cannot  otherwise;  God  help  me. 
Amen!"— these  and  a  thousand  other  associations 
rush  upon  the  thought  of  the  delighted  traveler  as  he 
floats  along  upon  the  waters  of  this  famous  river. 
When  we  witness  a  performance  of  Wagner's  Rhein- 
gold  it  adds  beauty  and  interest  to  the  wonderful 
composition  if  in  imagination  we  can  repeople  the  old 
castles  with  their  figures  of  chivalry  and  live  in  the 
midst  of  the  scenes  so  grandly  described  in  words  and 
tones. 

And  so  everywhere  else,— our  aesthetic  feelings  are 
greatly  elevated  and  intensified  when  the  objects  which 
excite  them  are  associated  with  historical  truths  or 
legendary  tales,  with  pictures  and  statues,  with  build- 
ings and  men,  with  poems  and  songs. 

The  aesthetic  feelings  in  a  special  sense  constitute 
the  enchanted  regions  where  live  all  artists  and 
whence  flows  the  stream  of  art-productions.  It  is  sa- 
cred ground,  where  low  and  vulgar  things  are  alto- 
gether out  of  place  and  out  of  harmony.  The  pure 
love  of  the  beautiful  is  near  akin  to  the  high  moral 
and  the  divine.  It  is  occupied  with  lofty  things,  with 
things  which  must  be  spiritually  discerned,  with  the 
unseen.  It  has  been  well  said  that  "he  who  sees  noth- 
ing in  a  picture  but  the  painted  canvas  has  not  seen 
the  picture."  So  he  who  hears  in  a  grand  piece  of 
music  nothing  but  sound,  hears  not  the  music.  As  one 
justly  remarks:— 


262  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

"If  truth  presupposes  a  pure,  unprejudiced,  dispas- 
sionate state  of  mind  for  its  apprehension,  this  is  de- 
manded in  a  still  higher  degree  in  the  case  of  beauty; 
for,  the  essential  elements  of  the  beautiful,  with  which 
it  overflows,  is  a  feeling,  that  is,  a  state  of  mind;  but 
objective  beauty  cannot  mirror  itself  in  a  mind  that 
is  excited  with  passion.  The  beautiful,  like  the  divine, 
presupposes  a  devout  frame  of  mind,  a  purified  heart 
which  approaches  its  altar.  The  uncultured  mind 
seizes  the  object,  in  order  to  make  it  a  means  for  the 
satisfaction  of  desires;  it  is  not  the  form,  but  the 
material  of  the  object  which  is  preferred.  Aesthetic 
apprehension  leaves  the  object  untouched  which  it  ap- 
proaches, only  with  the  higher  senses  in  silent  devo- 
tion."* 

And  Goethe  with  fine  discrimination  says,  "Man 
does  not  desire  the  stars— he  rejoices  in  their  beauty." 

To  this  may  be  added  the  familiar  lines  of  Shake- 
speare:— 

"The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils; 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night, 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus. 
Let  no  such  man  be  trusted." 

—Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  V. 

The  Moral  Feelings.  The  moral  feelings  are  those 
which  are  connected  with  the  concepts  of  right  and 
wrong,  good  and  evil,  duty  and  religion— in  a  word, 
with  the  functions  of  conscience.  They  hold  the  high- 
est rank  and  dominate  the  most  important  interests 
of  the  human  race.  They  are  invested  with  a  sense  of 
authority  which  no  other  kind  of  feeling  possesses. 

•Lindner,  "Empirical  Psychology." 


FEELINGS  MAY  BE  CULTIVATED.  263 

"Thou  shalt"  and  "them  shalt  not,"  are  the  words  of 
authority  and  of  inviolable  law  which  go  forth  with 
the  moral  emotions;  in  proportion  as  these  solemn 
imperatives  are  obeyed  or  disobeyed,  we  experience 
peace  or  condemnation.  There  is  no  such  feeling  of 
authority  or  necessity  hi  any  other  class  of  emotions. 
The  true  does  not  bind  us,  the  beautiful  has  no  pow- 
er to  compel  choice  and  action;  the  good  alone  is  in- 
vested with  authority.  "The  perception  of  a  rain- 
bow, a  ruined  castle  or  autumnal  scenery  may  raise 
an  aesthetic  feeling  but  never  a  moral  one.  Lear 
could  blame  the  winds  for  buffeting  his  old  and  help- 
less head  only  after  he  had  personifed  them  .  .  .  We 
may  admire  a  painting  or  a  cathedral  or  not,  just  as 
we  choose;  if  we  fail  to  admire,  remorse  does  not  fol- 
low." Not  so  with  the  perception  of  moral  qualities; 
we  cannot  be  indifferent  to  the  good  and  the  right, 
to  duty  and  God. 

Cultivation  of  the  Feelings.  Just  as  the  muscles  of 
the  body  and  the  powers  of  thought  may  be  cultivat- 
ed, so  can  the  feelings  be  improved  and  controlled  by 
proper  exercise.  The  feelings  are  like  habits— they 
become  strengthened  and  fixed  by  oft-repeated  and 
persistent  use.  Indeed,  a  feeling  of  joy  or  despond- 
ency, of  benevolence  or  hate,  of  gratitude  or  selfish- 
ness, if  fostered  may  become  second  nature,  that  is, 
habitual.  It  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  a  man's 
disposition  is  altogether  native  to  him,  something 
given  him  once  for  all,  to  keep  and  make  the  best  of 
it.  Our  dispositions  as  well  as  our  minds  are  ca- 
pable of  indefinite  improvement  by  culture. 

This  fact  rests  on  the  same  physiological  basis  as  do 
the  phenomena  of  habit,  memory,  and  association. 
Experiment  shows  and  experience  confirms  the  state- 


264  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

ment  that  our  nerves  as  well  as  our  muscles  improve 
with  exercise.  It  is  a  matter  of  record  that  nerves 
have  improved  in  discriminating  power,  whether  in 
reference  to  sound,  colors,  taste,  touch,  or  odors. 
This  subject  of  late  years  has  received  very  much  at- 
tention in  the  psychological  laboratory  and  some 
positive  results  have  been  attained  in  regard  to  the 
reaction-time  of  nerves.  By  reaction-time  is  meant 
the  very  small  period  of  time  which  elapses  between 
the  application  of  a  stimulus  to  a  given  nerve  and 
the  reaction  of  that  nerve  or  the  production  of  mo- 
tion in  its  correlative  muscles,  in  other  words,  the 
time  required  for  the  nervous  discharge  and  its  con- 
version into  muscular  motion.  By  numerous  experi- 
ments it  is  found  that  the  reaction-time  varies  in 
different  individuals  and  in  the  same  individual  under 
different  circumstances.  In  old  people  and  in  un- 
cultivated people  the  time  is  long  (nearly  a  second, 
in  an  old  pauper  observed  by  Exner);  in  children  also 
before  the  work  of  training  has  proceeded  far,  the 
time  is  comparatively  long.  Practice  has  the  effect 
to  shorten  the  time  of  reaction;  so  also  the  concen  tra- 
tion  of  attention.  Fatigue,  intoxicants,  disuse 
lengthen  it.  The  reaction-time  for  the  sound-stimulus 
is  shorter  than  for  either  sight  or  touch.  Tones  of 
different  intensities  show  no  change  in  the  average 
reaction-time;  but  as  the  pitch  rises  the  time  decreases, 
a  fact  which  as  yet  has  not  been  satisfactorily  ex- 
plained.* 

What  do  these  experiments  prove?  Clearly,  that 
nerves  are  improved  by  exercise,  that  their  native 
sensitiveness  to  stimuli  may  be  increased  by  right 
usage  and  lessened  by  neglect  or  abuse.  The  signifi- 

*Scripture,  "The  New  Psychology,"  p.  144. 


CULTIVATION  OF  TASTE.  265 

cance  of  this  truth  cannot  be  too  strongly  emphasiz- 
ed as  a  basis  for  the  cultivation  of  the  feelings. 

In  nothing  does  the  degree  of  culture  attained  by 
our  aesthetic  emotions  announce  itself  so  infallibly 
as  in  our  taste.  "The  vulgar,"  says  Grant  Allen, 
"are  pleased  by  great  masses  of  color,  especially  red, 
orange,  and  purple,  which  give  their  coarse  nervous 
organization  the  requisite  stimulus.  The  refined,  with 
nerves  of  less  caliber,  but  greater  discriminativeness, 
require  delicate  combinations  of  complementaries 
and  prefer  neutral  tints  to  the  glare  of  the  primary 
hues.  Children  and  savages  love  to  dress  in  all  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow.  .  .  Good  taste  is  the  progres- 
sive product  of  progressing  fineness  and  discrimina- 
tion in  the  nerves,  educated  attention,  high  and 
noble  emotional  constitution,  and  increasing  in- 
tellectual faculties."! 

Not  only  for  the  sake  of  acquiring  a  refined  and  ele- 
vated taste,  which  should  be  the  possession  of  every 
intelligent  and  cultured  person,  but  also  for  other 
reasons  should  the  emotions  be  cultivated.  The  en- 
joyment of  the  pure  pleasures  of  the  senses,  enjoy- 
ment of  the  amenities  of  refined  society,  enjoyment  of 
the  aesthetic  delights  afforded  by  music  and  her  sis- 
ter arts,  enjoyment  of  the  higher  spiritual  felicities  of 
Christian  experience,— enjoyment  of  life,  as  the  Crea- 
tor designed  it,  is  not  possible  without  the  cultiva- 
tion of  our  emotional  powers. 

"Life  is  not  an  empty  dream. 

*        *       *       * 

Life  is  real  I    Life  is  earnest  I 
And  the  grave  is  not  its  goall" 


tGrant  Allen,  "Physiological  Aesthetics." 


266  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

God  meant  that  the  measure  of  our  life's  days 
and  years  should  be  filled  full  with  the  enjoyment 
which  flows  from  virtuous  actions.  He  meant  that 
we  should  be  happy  here  in  this  world  as  well  as  in 
the  world  beyond;  for  this  purpose  He  gave  us  a  soul 
with  capacity  for  intellectual,  aesthetic,  and  spiritual 
enjoyment;  and  for  this  reason  He  created  this  world 
a  beautiful  world,  that  some  of  its  beauty  might  come 
into  the  soul  to  gladden,  to  enrich,  to  elevate  its  life. 
The  life  of  feeling,  quite  as  much  as  that  of  thought, 
is  a  legitimate  life,  and  asceticism  is  a  reproach  to 
our  Maker.  Education  is  intended  to  increase  our 
capacity  for  happiness  as  well  as  our  capacity  for 
usefulness,  and  religion  has  its  fruitage  in  the  realiza- 
tion of  those  beatitudes  pronounced  by  the  Saviour 
of  the  world  upon  the  pious  of  all  ages.  Puritanic 
fanaticism  may  banish  poetry  and  musical  instru- 
ments and  innocent  amusements  from  society,  the 
fiery,  ill-guided  zeal  of  the  iconoclast  may  break  open 
temples  and  demolish  images  and  altar  pieces,  the 
rude  vandal  may  destroy  the  treasures  of  art,  but 
as  long  as  the  soul  is  what  it  is  and  nature  is  nature, 
so  long  will  the  enjoyment  of  cultivated  emotional 
life  be  a  dominant  major  in  the  grand  harmony  of 
the  world.  The  highest  enjoyment  comes  from  making 
others  happy;  that  is  the  mode  of  cultivated,  refined 
feeling,  the  charity  that  "is  kind,  that  envieth  not, 
that  vaunteth  not  itself,  that  is  not  puffed  up,  doth 
not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seeketh  not  its  own,  is 
not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil." 

Cultivation  of  the  feelings  is  further  necessary  in 
order  to  keep  them  under  proper  control.  Emotion 
is  a  good  servant,  but  a  terrible  master.  The  feelings 
if  kept  under  control  and  guided  aright  are  a  mighty 


CONTROL  OF  PASSION.  267 

power  for  good,  but  if  allowed  to  run  wild  they  are  a 
dangerous  power  for  evil.  Passion  is  ungoverned, 
violent  feeling— it  is  the  high  spirited  steed,  broken 
loose  from  restraint;  it  is  the  quietly  flowing  river 
now  swollen,  overflowing  its  banks  and  wildly  rush- 
ing; it  is  the  gentle  zephyr  now  fretted  into  the  furious 
whirlwind;  it  is  the  useful  steam  become  explosive 
and  tearing  its  receptacle  into  fragments;  it  is  the 
harmless  electric  fluid  now  gathered  into  the  angry 
thunder  cloud  hurling  its  destructive  bolts  upon  the 
earth.  Control  these  elements,  and  you  make  them 
mighty  helpers  to  human  industry  and  human  life; 
so,  control  the  feelings  by  education  and  culture  and 
you  make  them  a  potent  influence  for  good,  an  im- 
portant adjunct  to  psychic  life. 

But  you  say,  I  am  nervous  by  constitution  or  tem- 
perament and  so  cannot  control  my  nerves  and  emo- 
tions. All  the  greater  need  of  training.  The  child's 
fretfulness  and  peevishness  can  be  overcome,  and  so 
can  yours.  It  is  a  good  old  maxim,  "Think  twice  be- 
fore speaking  once."  Restraining  the  expression  of  an 
excited  emotion  is  ofttimes  the  best  way  to  subdue  it. 
A  fire  will  go  out  of  its  own  accord  if  fuel  is  not  sup- 
plied. The  words  of  Prof.  James  deserve  to  be  heed- 
ed: "Refuse  to  express  a  passion,  and  it  dies.  Count 
ten  before  venting  your  anger,  and  its  occasion  seems 
ridiculous.  Whistling  to  keep  up  courage  is  no  mere 
figure  of  speech.  On  the  other  hand,  sit  all  day  in  a 
moping  posture,  sigh,  and  reply  to  everything  with  a 
dismal  voice,  and  your  melancholy  lingers.  There  is 
no  more  valuable  precept  in  moral  education  than 
this,  as  all  who  have  experience  know:  if  we  wish  to 
conquer  undesirable  emotional  tendencies  in  our- 
selves, we  must  assiduously,  and  in  the  first  instance 


268  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

coldbloodedly,  go  through  the  out  ward  mo  vements 
of  those  contrary  dispositions  which  we  prefer  to 
cultivate.  The  reward  of  persistency  will  infallibly 
come,  in  the  fading  out  of  the  sullenness  or  depression, 
and  the  advent  of  real  cheerfulness  and  kindliness  in 
their  stead.  Smooth  the  brow,  brighten  the  eye, 
contract  the  dorsal  rather  than  the  ventral  aspect  of 
the  frame,  and  speak  in  a  major  key,  pass  the  genial 
compliment,  and  your  heart  must  be  frigid  if  it  do 
not  gradually  thaw!" 

"To  guard  against  passion  is  one  of  the  chief  duties 
of  man.  He  will  not  easily  sink  beneath  the  yoke  of 
passion  if  accustomed  to  a  moral  discipline  through 
early  obedience  to  the  commands  of  parent  and 
teacher,  as  well  as  the  regulations  of  society,  through 
strictness  and  toughening,  moderation  and  absti- 
nence, the  avoidance  of  eccentric  pleasures,  and  above 
all  through  yielding  to  a  habit  of  thought  rich  in  mor- 
al ideals." 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  Distinguish  'feeling'  from  'sensation'  and  'emotion.' 

2.  Five  diBerent  senses  in  which  the  word  -feeling'  is  used? 

3.  General  nature  of  the  feelings?    Facts  in  the  case? 

4.  Explain  the  physiological  theory  of  feeling. 

5.  What  objection  to  these  views? 

6.  State  the  theory  of  Prof.  James,  and  give  objection  to  it. 

7.  State  the  Herbartian  theory. 

8.  Explain  the  furthering  and  arresting  of  concepts. 

9.  Merits  of  the  Herbartian  theory? 

10.  State  a  third  theory  of  feeling. 

11.  Mention  some  fundamental  facts  in  regard  to  the  feelings. 

12.  What  is  meant  by  the  content  of  feeling?    Illustrate. 


QUESTIONS.  269 

13.  What  is  meant  by  the  tone  of  feeling? 

14.  Are  there  feelings  with  indifferent  tone? 

15.  Define  intensity  of  feeling. 

16.  On  what  does  intensity  depend? 

17.  What  is  meant  by  rhythm  of  feeling? 

18.  Illustrate  the  universality  of  rhythm  in  nature. 

19.  What  is  said  of  Bolton's  researches  in  rhythm? 

20.  Define  duration  of  feeling. 

21.  On  what  does  duration  depend? 

22.  What  is  said  of  human  affection? 

23.  What  is  said  of  Christian  steadfastness? 

24.  What  is  said  of  light,  flashy  music? 

25.  What  is  said  of  sacred  music? 

26.  What  is  said  about  the  classification  of  the  feelings?    Give 
adopted  scheme. 

27.  Why  cannot  the  feelings  be  satisfactorily  classified? 

28.  What  about  subconscious  feelings? 

29.  What  are  the  sensuous  feelings? 

30.  Define  the  intellectual  feelings.     Illustrate. 

31.  Give  example  about  Kepler. 

32.  What  is  said  about  the  birth  of  new  ideas? 

33.  What  are  the  aesthetic  feelings? 

34.  Name  some  characteristics  of  the  aesthetic  feelings. 

35.  Show  that  the  aesthetic  feelings  depend  on  composite  form. 

36.  What  is  said  of  harmony  in  relation  to  aesthetic  emotion? 

37.  Show  that  aesthetic  pleasure  is  not  restricted  to  the  few. 
Give  examples. 

38.  Name  three  elements  in  aesthetic  enjoyment. 

39.  Explain  the  sensuous  element. 

40.  What  is  the  intellectual  element? 

41.  Define  the  associative  element. 

42.  Show  bearing  of  association  on  feelings. 

43.  What  makes  the  Rhine  so  interesting?    Illustrate. 

44.  Explain  relation  of  aesthetic  feelings  to  art. 

45.  Show  affinity  of  the  beautiful  to  the  divine. 

46.  Quote  lines  from  Shakespeare. 

47.  Define  the  moral  feelings. 

48.  What  distinctive  peculiarity  do  the  moral  feelings  possess? 

49.  Why  can  the  feelings  be  cultivated? 

50.  On  what  basis  rests  the  cultivation  of  human  disposition? 

51.  What  is  meant  by  reaction-time? 


270  THE  FEELINGS  AND  EMOTIONS. 

52.  State  results  of  experiments,  and  what  do  these  show? 

53.  What  is  said  of  taste?    Give  substance  of  quotation  from 
Grant  Allen. 

54.  What  is  said  of  enjoyment? 

55.  Explain  reference  to  true  "charity"  in  this  connection. 

56.  What  is  said  of  controlling  the  feelings? 

57.  Define  passion.    Illustrate. 

58-  Can  nerves  be  controlled?    How? 

59.  Give  reasons  why  passion  should  be  controlled. 


271 


CHAPTER.  XL 

The  Will 

is  the  name  usually  given  to  the  executive 
faculty  of  the  soul.  It  makes  the  third  grand 

W  division  of  our  psychology,  and  completes 
the  round  of  all  the  known  modes  of  mental  activity. 
An  act  of  will  implies  choice,  motive  and  execution. 
In  so  far  as  it  implies  choice  it  rests  in  a  cognitive 
function;  in  so  far  as  it  implies  moti ve  it  rests  in  an 
emotional  function;  and  on  its  executive  side  it  rests 
in  motor  function.  So  then  the  will  as  the  supreme 
faculty  covers  the  field  both  of  the  concepts  and  of 
the  feelings;  it  extends  its  sway  over  the  entire  realm 
of  psychic  life.  It  is  royal  in  its  nature  and  if  not 
dethroned  by  the  anarchistic  forces  of  low  animal 
passions  and  indulgences,  it  is  seated  upon  its  throne 
and  "by  divine  right"  rules  the  life  of  man  in  simple 
majesty  and  order. 

The  choice  involved  in  an  act  of  volition  depends 
on  knowledge,  The  will  is,  therefore,  an  intelligent 
sovereign.  There  could  be  no  choice  between  different 
things  or  different  courses  of  action  if  there  were  not 
knowledge  of  the  things  discriminated.  In  that  beau- 
tiful allegory,  "The  Choice  of  Hercules,"  when  the 
young  hero  stood  perplexed  at  the  point  where  he 
had  to  choose  one  path  or  the  other,  he  was  fully  in- 
structed by  the  two  virgins,  Virtue  and  Vice,  concern- 
ing the  nature  and  goal  of  their  respective  paths, 
and  therefore  made  his  choice  intelligently.  It  is  a 


2?2  THE  WILL. 

correct  representation  of  every  true  choice.  In  choice 
there  is  always  knowledge  of  alternatives  and  deliber- 
ation upon  the  merits  of  the  things  in  consciousness. 
In  order  that  the  will  may  guide  to  a  right  and  safe 
goal  there  must  be  adequate  information;  otherwise 
it  will  be  like  the  blind  leading  the  blind.  If  knowledge 
be  lacking  volition  resolves  itself  into  submission  to 
fate,  which  goes  ever  "as  weird  must  go."  First, 
then,  as  the  basis  for  the  development  of  a  resolute 
and  normal  will,  there  must  be  a  liberal  supply  of 
concepts,  both  extensive  and  intensive  knowledge. 

The  motive  power  of  volition  is  furnished  by  the 
feelings.  The  direction  in  which  the  will  goes  is  de- 
termined by  an  idea,  but  the  propelling  force  which 
urges  it  on  to  its  goal  is  emotion.  It  is  true,  that  the 
emotions  themselves,  as  we  have  seen,  are  modified 
and  even  controlled  by  the  will;  but  it  is  also  true  that 
the  emotions  thus  innervated  and  strengthened,  in 
turn  react  upon  the  will  to  determine  its  action.  If 
my  feelings  are  indifferent,  my  will  is  weak,  undecided, 
wavering.  If  I  cherish  no  noble  ambition,  the  hope 
or  expectation  of  whose  attainment  thrills  my  soul 
with  an  inner  delight,  my  will  is  not  able  to  sur- 
mount the  petty  obstacles  that  lie  in  my  way.  If  the 
feeling  of  a  worthy  purpose  does  not  move  your  will, 
you  will  never  become  a  good  musician.  Your  ardent 
desires,  your  earnest  longings,  your  sincere  love  for 
your  art  must  fan  your  will  into  a  flame,  and  then 
the  little  difficulties  which  obstruct  your  way  will 
soon  be  consumed.  It  is  an  old  saying  that  "love 
conquers  all  things,"  and  also  that  "a  stout  heart 
makes  a  strong  arm."  In  the  light  of  our  subject  is 
disclosed  the  philosophy  of  these  maxims;  we  see  how 


FREEDOM  OF  THE  WILL.  273 

'love  conquers'  and  bow  the  'stout  heart'  innervates 
the  arm  for  mighty  execution. 

Our  remarks  lead  us  again  to  the  physiological  as- 
pect of  the  subject,  namely,  to  consider  how  the  nerv- 
ous energy  of  a  high-wrought  feeling  like  water  from 
a  reservoir  on  a  high  elevation,  with  great  potentiali- 
ty discharges  itself  downward  into  the  motor  organs. 
It  is  an  exceedingly  fascinating  field  which  the  'new 
psychology'  has  opened  up  to  view;  but  we  cannot 
enter  now.  Many  startling  and  radical  things  are 
said  by  writers  on  the  subject,  but  most  of  them  re- 
main to  be  proved.  According  to  Miinsterberg,  "The 
will  is  only  a  complex  of  sensations."  If  this  is  a  fair 
specimen  of  the  'new  doctrines,'  we  prefer  to  cling  to 
the  old  until  we  have  better  information. 

The  question  concerning  the  freedom  of  the  will  has 
puzzled  the  minds  of  philosophers  from  the  earliest 
days,  and  it  is  not  yet  settled  in  all  its  aspects.  But 
in  the  light  of  the  best  philosophy  and  the  best  science 
of  to-day  there  is  no  good  reason  for  doubting  that 
the  will  of  man,  in  the  right  sense  of  the  word,  is  free. 
When  the  physiological  aspects  of  the  problem  are 
cleared  up  it  will  be  found  that  the  facts  which  appear 
to  militate  against  the  doctrine  of  freedom  really  do 
not  belong  to  the  will  proper.  The  determinism  of 
reflex  action  is  not  the  determinism  of  will. 

We  must  assume  that  the  choices  and  decisions  of 
man  are  free,  that  is,  they  are  his  own  unconstrained 
acts,  otherwise  we  have  no  foundation  for  character. 
If  I  am  not  the  author  of  my  acts,  then  I  am  not  re. 
sponsible  for  them;  then  the  administration  of  moral 
law  and  civil  law  is  lawlessness,  Moral  law  and  civil 
law  imply  accountability,  and  accountability  implies 
freedom  to  choose  and  act.  We  do  not  forget  the 


274  THE  WILL. 

influence  of  heredity  and  environment  in  shaping 
character;  but  eliminate  these,  and  the  great  central 
factor  remains.  A  man  cannot  choose  his  parents; 
heredity  is  a  powerful  factor;  but  it  is  a  matter  of 
common  observation  that  a  man  by  the  power  of  his 
will  can  deeply  modify  and  in  many  instances  entirely 
overcome  the  appetites  and  tendencies  which  he  has 
received  from  his  parents.  If  a  son  has  in  his  nature 
the  taint  of  a  hereditary  fondness  for  drink,  it  does 
not  follow  that  he  must  be  and  will  be  a  drunkard;  he 
has  a  power  within  him  which  by  proper  cultivation 
is  able  to  overcome  the  hereditary  leaning.  We  be- 
lieve that  resisting  the  devil,  overcoming  temptation, 
and  such  like  phrases  in  the  language  of  religion  and 
morals  are  more  than  mere  figures  of  speech.  They 
are  solid  facts,  and  they  have  their  foundation  in 
psychological  principles. 

Environment  is  a  powerful  factor  in  shaping  char- 
acter; we  have  remarked  concerning  it  in  the  chapter 
on  association,  and  we  see  it  daily  illustrated.  But 
it  is  also  true,  in  the  first  place,  that  a  man  can  to  a 
great  extent  determine  his  environment,  and,  in  the 
second  place,  that  he  can  materially  modify  his  exist- 
ing environment.  On  the  authority  of  experience 
and  the  authority  of  God's  word  any  man,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  can  be  what  he  ought  to  be,  an  honest, 
upright,  industrious,  temperate,  law-abiding,  pious, 
Christian  man.  The  fact  argues  the  sovereignty  of 
will  and  sovereignty  implies  freedom. 

The  will,  like  all  other  faculties,  is  capable  of  culti- 
vation. Not  all  men  are  gifted  alike  in  respect  to 
will  power;  not  every  man  is  a  Napoleon.  But  what- 
ever a  man's  endowment,  he  can  improve  it  indefinite- 
ly. The  child's  will  is  undeveloped,  capricious,  and 


TRAINING  OF  THE  WILL.  275 

lawless;  it  needs  to  have  its  potency  developed  and 
guided  and  controlled.  A  large  share  in  the  business 
of  education  has  to  do  with  will  training.  To  control 
the  child's  will  power  and  to  enlist  it  in  the  work  of 
mental  development  is  the  teacher's  first  strategic 
point.  And  in  mature  life  it  is  a  prominent  duty  of 
everyone  to  attend  to  the  culturing  of  his  will.  The 
cultivation  of  will  consists  not  alone  in  developing 
strength,  but  also  in  directing  its  energy  in  the  prop- 
er channel,  in  keeping  it  under  proper  control,  and 
in  coordinating  it  in  a  normal  manner  with  the 
various  other  elements  of  psychic  life. 

What  has  been  given  in  the  chapter  on  habit  by 
way  of  rules  for  the  formation  of  right  habits  is  ap- 
plicable here  by  way  of  suggestion  as  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  will.  We  have  also  in  another  place  spok- 
en of  the  possibilities  of  the  will  in  practical  life  and 
of  its  influences  on  states  of  body  and  mind,  and 
therefore  this  subject  needs  nothing  further  here.  In 
our  brief  remarks  in  this  chapter  on  the  will  we  have 
but  hinted  at  a  few  things  from  the  midst  of  a  great 
and  broad  field  upon  which  volumes  have  been  writ- 
ten, and  which  our  brief  space  forbids  us  to  unfold. 


QUESTIONS. 

1.  Meaning  of  will? 

2.  What  is  implied  in  an  act  of  will? 

3.  Explain  the  sovereign  nature  of  will. 

4.  On  what  does  choice  depend?    Illustrate. 

5.  What  is  the  motive  power  of  volition? 


276  THE  WILL. 

6.  Show  influence  of  the  emotions  on  will? 

7.  Explain  physiological  aspect  of  the  will. 

8.  What  is  said  of  new  theories? 

9.  What  is  said  of  the  freedom  of  the  will. 

10.  Explain  moral  bearing  of  freedom  of  the  wilL 

11.  Explain  influence  of  environment. 

12.  What  of  cultivation  of  will? 


THE  END. 


INDEX. 


Abercrombie,  Dr.,  case  re- 
ported by 163 

Accidental  association 127 

Accommodation  of  the  eye,  52 
Acquaintance    with    many 

subjects 103 

Action,  automatic 77 

Act  of  memory  analyzed 15-1 

Activity  of  memory  in  child- 
hood  157 

Aesthetic,  conditions  in  edu- 
cation, 141;  imagination, 

209;  feelings .....255 

Affection,  human,  condition 

of  permanency 250 

After-effects,  of  nervous  ac- 
tion, 69;  in  physical  world  72 

After-images 204 

Aim  high 94 

"Alexander's  Feast,"  quota- 
tion from 147 

Analysis  of  memory 154 

Analytic  process  in  imagina- 
tion  197 

Anticipation,  power  of 132 

Apple,     concept     of,     how 

formed 117 

Apperception  of  concepts....  41 
Appreciation,  of  music,  how 
possible,  104;  sympathet- 
ic  223 

Archimedes    and   the   gold 

crown 253 

Architecture,  the   work   of 

imagination 199 

Arnold,    Dr.    Thomas,    on 

energy  and  will 95 

Arrest  of  concepts 242 

Art,  of  hearing,  58;  true, 
simplicity  of,  100;  in  edu- 
cation,^!; products,  how 
formed,  199;  realm  of 
aesthetic  imagination,210, 


221;  from  standpoint  of 
the  artist.  233;  kinship  to 

the  divine 261 

Artist,  the,  what  constitutes  100 

Artistic  imagination 209 

Asking  questions 131 

Assimilation  of  ideas 42 

Association,  explained  114; 
successive,  115;  physiolo- 
gical basis  of,  117;  laws  of, 
118;  logical,  127;  educa- 
tional bearing  of,  138;  in 

aesthetic  pleasure 259 

Attention,undivided. 90;  vol- 
untary, law  of,  137;  de- 
fined, 181;  in  memory 
training,181;  to  one  thing 
only,  182;  in  case  of  imbe- 
ciles  184 

Audibility,  limits  of 56 

Auditory  images 212 

Authority  of  the  moral  feel- 
ings  263 

Author's  personality  in  his 

composition 105 

Automatic  action 77 

Avoiding  mistakes 80 

Bach,  his  industry 93 

Bad  habits,  to  be  avoided, 

76;  hard  to  unlearn 80 

Bagpipe,  incident  of 145 

Bain,  educational  principles 
of,  82;  on  memory  in  edu- 
cation, 172;  on  attention. 182 

Balancing  ex  periment 1 73 

Balking  car-horse,  example 

of 121 

Baldwin,  on  phantasy,  205; 
on  power  of  imagination, 
214;  on  instinctive  feel- 
ings  251 

Barriers  overcome  by  will 94 


278  IN 

Basilar  membrane 55 

Bayard  bill,  example  of 123 

Beauty,  of  a  trained  mind, 
125;  the  end  of  aesthetic 
imagination,  209;  the 

great  world  of 257 

Beautiful,  the,  in  nature 233 

Beethoven  and  the  young 
composer  34;  his  kiss,  85; 
favorite  maxim.  93;  how 
to  understand  his  music...  104 
Beginnings  alone  difficult....  80 

Being  and  willing 96 

Beneficence  of  imagination.. 220 
Benefits  of  memorizing  mu- 
sic  189 

Berlioz,  effects  of  music 146 

"Betty,"  example  of 178 

Birth  of  new  truths 254 

Biography, musical, value  of  104 

Blind,  dreams  of 205 

Blood, circulation  influenced 
by  music,  146;  and  mental 

action 173 

Bodily , conditions  for  strong 
nerves,  89;  effects  of  ima- 
gination  214 

Body,  influence  of  music  on, 
146;  state  of,  effects  on 

memory 172 

Bond  of  ideas 114 

Books,  power  of 141 

Boutibonne,  case  of 215 

Brain,  structure  of,  48;  di- 
visions, 49,  disposition  of  156 
Brain-<;ells,   record   acts  of 

negligence 75 

Breadth  of  ideas 103 

Brougham,  Lord,  on  habit 
in  education 73 

Capacity  of  human  ear 56 

Car-horse,  example  of 121 

Carpenter,  on  law  of  habit, 
77;  on  repetition  in  memo- 
ry, 185;  on  bodily  effects 

of  imagination 216 

Case  of  criminal,  dying  from 

imagination 215 

"Cataract  of  Lodore,"  quo- 
ted  233 


Causes  of  things 128 

Central  nerve  current 89 

Cerebral  explanation  of  con- 
tiguity  117 

Cerebro-spinal  axis 48 

Cerebrum 49 

Change  in  emotional  states  137 

Character  of  the  keys 14 

Character,  moral,  grounded 

in  freedom 273 

Characteristics,  of  the  feel- 
ings, general,  244;  of  the 

aesthetic  feelings 256 

Childhood, period  of  greatest 

memory  development 157 

Child-nature 76 

Choice  implied  in  will 271 

"Choice  of  Hercules,"  allego- 
ry of 271 

Chomet,  on  musical  instru- 
ments   15 

Christine  Nilsson's  voice 57 

Circulation  of  blood,  89;  af- 
fected by  music 146 

Clairvoyance,  musical 222 

Classic  music 106 

Classification  of  nerves,  49; 
of  concepts,  177;  of  feel- 
ings  251 

Clear  perception,  necessary 

to  memory 175 

Clock,  exam  pie  of  partial  re- 
call  123 

Cochlea  of  the  ear 55 

Collateral  literature 107 

Committing  words  only 180 

Composers,  great  workers..  93 
Composite    nature    of    the 

aesthetic  feelings 256 

Concentration,  of  thought, 
89;  true  economy  of,  89; 
makes  the  musician,  89; 

does  wonders 91 

Concept     of     apple,     how 

formed 117 

Conception,  the    beginning 

of  music 23 

Concepts,  and  concept-mass, 
40;  never  annihilated, 
154;  as  material  for  im- 
agination, 234;  conflict  of  242 


Concept-system  and  memo- 

ry ..:.....:. 177 

Condition  of  greatness 95 

Content  of  feeling 244 

Contiguity,  law  of 118 

Control  of  one's  forces 99 

Correlation,  law  of 124 

Correlates,  example  of 128 

Corti,  organ  of 55 

Courage,  to  will  and  to  do,  95 

Cramming,  evil  of 179 

"Creation,"  Haydn's  ecsta- 

cy 19 

Creative  imagination,  197; 
its  process,  198;  products 

the  reflex  of  experience 212 

Cricket,  chirp  of,  example  of 

vividness 134 

Criminal,  death  of,  from  im- 
agination  215 

'Cues'  in  association 122 

Cultivated  imagination,  in- 
fluence of 229 

Cultivation,  of  the  eye,  52; 
of  the  ear,  58;  of  memory, 
170;  extent  of,  171;  art 
of,  171;  importance  of, 
172;  rules  for,  172;  bod- 
ily condition  for,  172;  of 
imagination,  229;  of  the 
feelings,  263;  of  the  will. ..274 
Cummings,  on  the  musical 

faculty  in  children 37 

Curative  agency  of  music  ....148 
Curiosity  of  human  mind  ....128 

Dates,  memory  of 168 

David,  and  his  harp 147 

Day-dreaming,   a  form    of 

phantasy 201 

Deceptions  practiced  by  mu- 
sicians  225 

Decline  of  memory 158 

Deliberative  imagination....207 
Delirium,  form  of  phantasy..  20 -J 

Demonstrative  music 100 

Descriptive  music  of  Schu- 
mann  233 

Determination;  the  true  wis- 
dom, 96;  foundation  of 
greatness 96  I 


sx.  279 

Diagram,  of  musical  staff, 
125;  of  recall 159 

Dickens,  custom  of  doing 
things  well 87 

Digestion,  influence  of  mu- 
sic on 149 

Disease,  effects  of,  on  memo- 
ry, 161;  caused  by  imagi- 
nation  216 

Dorian  mood,  16 148 

Dreams,  conform  to  laws, 
116;  of  the  blind,  205; 
colored  by  appetites 207 

Dry  den' s  "Alexander's 
Feast" 147 

Duke  of  Wellington ,  on  habit  74 

Dull  boy,  example  of 122 

Duration  of  feeling 249 

Ear,  structure  of,  54;  range 

of 56 

Ears,  diversity  of,  57;  that 

hear  not 58 

Ecstacy,  state  of,  222;  case 

of  Kepler 253 

Education,  habit  in 73 

Educational,  consequences 
of  apperception,  42;  bear- 
ing of  association,  138; 

value  of  stories 188 

Effects,  of  the  various  keys, 
14;  of  habit,  73;  of  repeti- 
tion, 108;  of  pathologic 
conditions,  161;  of  imagi- 
nation on  mind  and  body  214 

Ego  in  memory 165 

Elegy,  Gray's,  example   of 

coexistence 120 

Elements  in  memory 154 

Emotional,  preference,  law 
of,  133;  states,  change  in, 

137;  enjoyment 266 

Emotions  and  feelings 238 

Encouragement  of  pupils....  85 
End-organs  of  the  nerves ....  51 
Englishman,  advice  to  his 

son 90 

Enjoyment,  musical,  227; 
of  aesthetic  pleasure.  257; 
of  life's  pleasures 266 


280 


Environment,   influence  of, 

140;  relation  to  will 274 

Epilepsy  cured  by  music 150 

Equilibrium,  period  of 158 

Etymology,  examples  of 124 

Eustachian  tube 54 

Evil  habits  hard  to  correct..  79 

Examples  of  coexistence 119 

Excellence,  the  reward    of 

labor 92 

Excessive  hours  of  practice..  88 

Execution  of  music 102 

Exercise,  need  of,  90;  and 

memory 180 

Experience,  of  piano  pupil, 

83;  of  childhood 140 

Experimenter,  aided  by  im- 
agination  209 

Expression  and  mind,   27; 

musical  means  of 47 

Eye,  structure  of,  51;  culti- 
vation of 52 

Fables,  value  of,  in  teach- 
ing  188 

Facility  of  recall 159 

Facts,  of  coexistence 119 

Faculty,  the  musical,  30; 
mental,  right  and  wrong 

view  of  30;  defined 31 

"Faerie  Queen,"    how    to 

enjoy 228 

False  art  in  music 100 

False  notes,  avoid  making..  88 
Fancies,  depend  on  our  ex- 
perience  202 

Fascination     of     scientific 

studies 128 

Feelings,  defined,  238;  dif- 
ferent senses  of  the  word, 
239;  vague,  239;  physio- 
logical theory  of,  240;  due 
to  overstimulation,  240; 
Herbartian  theory  of,241; 
original  and  underived, 
243 ;  general  character- 
istics, 244;  content  of,  244; 
tone  of,  245;  neutral,  245; 
intensity  of,  245;  rhythm 
of,  246;  classification  of, 
251;  instinctive,  251; 


sensuous,    252;   intellect- 
ual, 253;  aesthetic,  255; 
moral,  262;  cultivation  of  263 
Ferrier,  on  the  sight-center.. 206 

Figures,  memory  of 167 

Fingers,  guided  by  thought  62 
First,  time,  value  of,  80; 
step  determines  subse- 
quent steps,  80;  mistake, 
critical  value  of,  80;  music 
lesson,  a  crisis,  81;  im- 
pressions, importance  of..  176 

Forms  of  imagination 2<*7 

Form-theory,  Herbartian...  18 

Franklin,  and  the  kite 208 

Funeral  march,  remark  by 

Mertz 223 

Fussy  man,example  of  imag- 
ination  ..214 

Gaining  knowledge,  inter- 
esting  128 

Galileo  and  the  chandelier.. .208 

Genius,  defined  and  illustra- 
ted, 32;  degraded  sense 
of,  33;  and  talent,  33;  be 
not  anxious  about,  83;  no 
substitute  for  labor,  93; 
hereditary,  examples  of.. ..136 

German,  servant  girl,  re- 
markable case  of 162 

Girl,  orphan,  remarkable 
case  of 163 

Giving  thought  to  action...  97 

"Golden  Age,"  imaginary 
picture  of 219 

Gondola  Songs  of  Mendels- 
sohn  224 

Greatness,  the  fruit  of  ener- 
gy   95 

Grecian  flute-teacher,  exam- 
ple of 80 

Gretry,  on  the  effects  of  mu- 
sic  146 

Grip  power, experiment  on..  144 

Growth  of  habit 78 

Habit,  defined,  66;  physio- 
logical point  of  view,  66; 
due  to  pathway  of  dis- 
charge, 67;  in  education, 


z8i 


73;  second  nature,  76; 
"ten  times  nature,"  74; 
tyranny  of,  77;  a  treach- 
erous schoolmistress,  77; 
a  law  of  our  being,  77;  the 
flywheel  of  society,  78; 
like  a  crease  in  paper,  77; 
strengthens  with  age,  78; 
hard  to  change,  78;  ex- 
pensive   80 

Habitude,  defined  and   de- 
scribed   71 

Hargreaves,  and  the  spin- 
ning-jenny  208 

Hallelujah  Chorus 224 

Hamilton,  on  attention 183 

Hand,  diagram  illustrating 

staff 125 

Hands,  guided  by  thought..  62 
Handel,  a  great  worker,  92; 
and  the  Hallelujah  Cho- 
rus  224 

Happiness,  influenced  by  im- 
agination  220 

Harmony,  causes  in 129 

Harp     of     ten     thousand 
strings,    56;    1   am   that 

harp 151 

Haydn,    rendition    of    the 

"Creation" 19 

Health  of  body  and  memo- 
ry  172 

Hearing,  art  of 58 

Heart  in  what  one  does 87 

Herbartian.form  theory,  18; 

theory  of  the  feelings 241 

Heredity,  facts  of,  136;  ex- 
amples, 136,  influence  of, 

on  will 274 

Hezekiah,  example  of 87 

Higher  imagination,  the 205 

Highlanders  and  the  bag- 
pipe  145 

Home  environment,  impor- 
tance of 140 

Hours  of  practice 88 

Human  progress,  promoted 

by  imagination 218 

Hygiene,  laws  of,  and  mem- 
ory  174 


Ideals,  absolute  in  music, 
19;  nature  and  uses  of, 
210;  musical,  importance 
of 212 

Ideas,  assimilation  of,  42; 
causally  connected,  115, 
sequence  of 115 

Ideational  theory  of  the  feel- 
ings  241 

Illustrations,  philosophy  of.187 

Images,  mental,influence  of.. 141 

Imbeciles,  cannot  fix  atten- 
tion  184 

Imagination,definition,195; 
relation  to  memory,  195; 
constructive,  197;  double 
process,  197;  mythologic 
examples,  198 ;  literary 
imagery,  198;  in  art-pro- 
ducts, 199;  modes  of,  202; 
207;  day-dreaming.aform 
of,  201;  in  delirium,  202; 
in  childhood,  203;  phan- 
tasy form,  204,  higher 
form,  205;  physiological 
basis,  206;  scientific,  207; 
aid  to  the  experimenter, 
208;  aesthetic,  209;  limits 
of,  211:  limited  to  the  con- 
crete, 213,  influence  and 
importance  of,  214;  effects 
on  mind  and  body,  214; 
effects  on  human  progress, 
217;  effects  in  practical 
life,  219;  paints  a  bright 
future,  220;  retrospective 
in  old  age,  220;  lightens 
the  burdens  of  life,  220; 
influence  in  music,  221; 
deceptions  of,  225;  in  mu- 
sical interpretation,  226; 
necessary  to  musical  en- 
joyment, 227;  cultivation 
of,  229;  period  of  growth, 
230;  means  and  methods 
of  cultivation,  230;  neces- 
sary for  expression,  232; 
concepts,  material  for 234 

Imaging  habit,  necessary  for 
expression 231 

Impression,    made   by   the 


282 


teacher,  84;  correlate  of 

expression, 84 

Incident  of  Liszt, 85 

Individuality  of  composers 

in  their  music 104 

Indian's  ideal  of  heaven 212 

Infants  appreciate  music 18 

Influence,  of  heredity,  136; 
274;  of  art  in  education, 
141;  of  environment  in 
education,  140,  274;  of 
music  on  the  insane,  149; 

of  imagination 214 

Initiative,  strong 80 

Inner,  ear  of  the  mind,  20; 

relations  of  things, 127 

Innocent  deceptions  of  imag- 
ination,  225 

Inquiry  into  causes 128 

Inquisitiveness  in  students,.  129 
Insane,  influence  of  music  on, 149 
Insanity,  inattention  a 

symptom  of, 184 

Inspiration,  Point,  example 
of  vividness,  133;inmusic,222 

Instinctive  feelings, 251 

Instruction  vs.  education,...  84 
Instruments,  character  of,..  15 
Intelligence,  behind  the  fin- 
gers, 60;  in  musical  work,  99 
Intellectual    feelings,    253; 
element  in  aesthetic  pleas- 
ure  259 

Intensity,    of  effort,    value 

of,  88;  of  feeling 245 

Interest,  principle  of,  133; 

in  memory 186 

Interpretation  and  mind, 28; 

secret  of,  86, 104;  musica!226 
Irresistible  power  of  habit...  77 

Jacobsohn,  on  hours  for 
practice 88 

James,  on  memory,  160;  on 
phantasy,  204;  on  the 
feelings,  267;  on  control 
of  the  feelings 267 

Jelly-type  of  memory 157 

Kepler,  his  ecstasy 253 

Keys,  character  of,  14;  sig- 
natures  125 


Kindergarten,  principle,  76; 

methods 231 

Kiss,  influence  of 85 

Knowledge,  gaining,  what 
is  implied,  42;  needful  to 
the  musician,  63,  is  power 
to  the  musician,  103;  nec- 
essary for  interpretation.  104 

Labor,  condition  of  success  92 

Labyrinth  of  the  ear 54 

Language,  music  the  univer- 
sal   22 

Lapses    in  training   to   be 

avoided 82 

Law,  of  modification  of  con- 
cepts, 41;  of  success,  93, 
of  contiguity,  118;  of  cor- 
relation, 124;pf  repetition, 
131;  of  emotional  prefer- 
ence  133 

Laws  of  association 118 

Learning,  to  think  music, 
60;  causes  of  things,  129; 
by  questions,  130;  by 

heart 180 

Lesson,  the  first,  a  crisis 81 

Liberty  of  performance 191 

Life,  a  mass  of  habits,  75, 

77;  first  start  of 79 

Lightning-blasted  tree,  ex- 
ample of  vividness 133 

Limits,  of  perceptibility  of 
vibrations,  57;  of  imag- 
ination  211 

Lindner,  on  memory  in  old 
age,  158;  on  sensuous  feel- 
ings  252 

Listening,  the  art  of 59 

Listlessness,  evil  of 98 

Liszt,  incident  of,  85,  226; 

remark  about  Schubert... 228 
Literary,       interpretation, 
104;  clubs  benefits  of,  109; 

imagery 198 

Logical,  sequence  of  ideas, 

115;  association 125 

Love,  power  of,  in  teaching, 
86,  secret  of  interpreta- 
tion, 86;  all  secrets  yield 
to  it,  86;  permanency  of... 249 


Lydianmode 143 

Lyre,  power  of 21 

Magliabechi,  power  of 
memory 168 

Man,  a  bundle  of  habits,  75; 
a  truth-hunter 131 

Martial  music,  influence  of..  144 

Means  and  methods  of  culti- 
vating the  imagination.. ..230 

Mechanical  Association 127 

Memory,  defined,  154;  ana- 
lyzed, 154;  physiological 
basis  of,  155;  personal  ele- 
ment in,  155,  165;  more 
than  a  property  of  mat- 
ter, 156;  as  a  faculty  of 
the  soul,  156;  maximum 
activity  of,  157;  different 
classes,  157;  in  childhood, 
157;  in  youth,  158;  in 
manhood,  158;  decline  of, 
158;  in  old  age,  158;  aided 
by  thought,  160;  depends 
on  concept-system,  160; 
influenced  by  pathologic 
conditions,  161;  varieties 
and  wonders  of,  167; 
cultivation  of,  170;  im- 
portance of,  172;  rules  for 
cultivation  of,  172;  de- 
pends on  health  of  body, 
172;  improved  by  atten- 
tion, 181;  by  repetition, 
185;  by  interest 180 

Memorizing  music,  189;  im- 
proves style.  190;  im- 
proves technique,  190; 
gives  liberty,  191;  time 
for 192 

Mendelssohn's  Gondola 
songs 224 

Mental,  dissipation,  87;  ac- 
tion, influence  of,  on  blood 
circulation 173 

Mermaid,  how  cpnstructed!98 

Methods,  wrong,  in  teaching 
music,  10 60 

Mertz,  on  the  tone-masters, 
21;  on  memorizing  music, 
191;  on  sympathetic  ap- 


=x.  283 

preciation,  223;  remarks 

on  "Messiah," 223 

Mezzofanti,  case  of 161 

Milton,  on  Dorian  mood,  16; 

his  custom 149 

Mind,  like  a  burning  glass...  88 
Minor  and  major  keys,  sen- 
timents of 14 

"Miserere,"  reproduced   by 

Mozart 169 

Mistake,  the  first 80 

Mnemonics,  substitute  for.. .180 
Model  student,  picture  of....!31 

Modes,  of  imagination 207 

Modification  of  concepts 41 

Molecular  disposition 68 

Moral,     nature,    influenced 

by  music,  147;  feelings 262 

Motor  nerves 50 

Movement,  new,  in  music....      9 
Mozart,  his  passion  for  work 

92;  power  of  memory... ..,.169 
Music,  more  than  practice, 
9;  nature  of,  13;  why  late 
to  develop,  13;  phenome- 
na of,  14;  physiological 
element  in,  17;  of  the  soul 
vs.  form,  19:  spiritual  ele- 
ment in,  20;  rooted  in  the 
aesthetic  nature,  20;  pow- 
er of,  21;  the  world -lan- 
guage, 22;  first  a  concep- 
tion, 23;  in  the  schools, 
38;  "of  the  spheres,"  58; 
in  nature,  58;  first  lesson 
in,  a  crisis,  81;  pupil's  tes- 
timony, 83;  classic  106; 
vain  kind,  106; clubs,  109; 
has  its  causes,  129;  rela- 
tion of  association  to, 
142;  power  of,  145;  means 
of  government,  143;  in- 
fluence on  body,  146:  in- 
fluence on  moral  nature, 
147;  curative  agency,  148; 
effects  on  digestion,  149: 
effects  on  the  insane,  150; 
benefits  of  memorizing, 
189;  power  of  imagina- 
tion in,  225;  enjoyment  of, 
227;  rhapsodical,  229; 


284  IN 

Schubert's  poetic,  228; 
descriptive,  Schumann's. ..283 

Musical,  myths,  meaning  of, 
21:  faculty,  30;  faculty 
universal,  31,  36;  expres- 
sion 47;  artists  100:  exe- 
cution 102;  appreciation, 
104;  history,  value  of  107; 
culture,  106;  works,  a  pre- 
cious heritage,  107;  mem- 
ory, cases  of  169;  style, 
improved  by  memorizing, 
190;  perception,  improved 
by  memorizing,  190;ideals, 
importance  of,  210;  clair- 
voyance, 222;  interpreta- 
tion,  226 

Musicians,  must  be  earnest 
students,  62;  have  need  of 
will-power 94 

Mysterious  flow  of  ideas 114 

Mythology,  musical  legends 
of 21 

Napoleon,  his  will  power, 
95;  on  imagination, 214 

Nature,  of  music,  12;  sounds 
in,  59;  communion  with, 
142 

Nation,  songs  and  pictures 
of  a 141 

Negligence,  record  of  in 
brain-cells 75 

Nerves,  number  and  struc- 
ture of,  49;  can  be  cultiva- 
ted  264 

Nerve-current,  how  to 
strengthen 89 

Nervous,  system,  structure 
of,  48;  disposition 69 

Neutral  feelings 245 

Newton,  Isaac,  his  method 
of  study,  184;  and  the 
apple 208 

Niagara  river,  example  of...  79 

Noises,  organ  of 55 

No  art  of  forgetting,  154.. ..162 

Number  of  brain-paths,  157,159 

Onomatopoetic  words 232 

Open  grave,  example  of  viv- 

....134 


Opera,  example  of 132 

Orphan  girl,  example  of 163 

Orpheus,  power  of  hislyre...  21 

Paganini,  incident  of 225 

Pain,  rhythmical  nature  of  .248 

Parables,  teaching  by 187 

Partial  recall  in  association!22 
Pascal,  power  of  memory.. .168 
Passion,  nature  of,  267,  con- 
trol of 267 

Pathologic  conditions,  effect 
on  memory,  161;  signifi- 
cance of 165 

Pathway  of  discharge 66 

Pedagogical,  application  of 
apperception,  44;  value  of 
training,  110;  value  of 

memorizing  music 189 

Perception,  clear,  necessary 

to  memory 175 

Performance,  liberty  of 191 

Personal  element  in  memo- 
ry  165 

Phantasy,  nature  of,  200; 
limitations,  202;  in  child- 
hood, 213;  physiological 

basis 214 

Phenomena,  musical 14 

Phrygian  mode,  peculiarity 

of 149 

Physical     conditions     for 

memory  culture 172 

Physiological  element  in  mu- 
sic, 17;  basis  of  memory, 
155;  theory  ofthefeelings,240 

Pianist,  conception  of 99 

Pictures,  influence  of 141 

Pitch,  effect  on  grip-power..  144 
Pitt,  William,  power  of  con- 
centration   91 

Plasticity,  of  nerve  sub- 
stance   68 

Plato,  definition  of  a  man, 

131;  on  music 143 

Pope's  "Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's 

Day." 147 

Power,  of  concentration,  89; 
of  will,  94;  of  music 143 


Practical  effects  of  imagin- 
ation  21 

Primary  law  of  association  116 

Principle  of  interest,  183; 
in  memory 186 

"Program  music," 233 

Progress,  in  music,  why 
lagging,  9;  promoted  by 
imagination 218 

Psychic,  element  in  music, 
20;  life  and  concept-mass,  40 

Psychology,  the  fundamen- 
tal science 11 

Psychological  character  of 
music  study 26 

8uality  of  feeling 244 
larin,  on  curative  power 
of  music 148 

Radcliffe,  Mrs.,  on  redinte- 
gration  126 

Range  of  the  ear 56 

"Rapt  musician,"  the 222 

Rational  association 177 

Reaction-time,  what 264 

Reasons  for  rational  asso- 
ciation  177 

Recall,  partial,  in  associa- 
tion, 122;  depends  on 

number  of  brain  paths 159 

Recency,  effect  of 133 

Record  of  negligence,  in  the 

braincells 75 

Redintegration,  example  of.126 
Religion,  condition  of  stabil- 
ity  250 

Remedy  for  stage  fright 90 

Repetition,  effects  of,68,108; 

in  memory  training 185 

Retentiveness  of  memory....  156 

Retina  of  the  eye 52 

Reverie,  a  form  of  phantasy200 
Revolution    in    the   music 

world 9 

Rhapsodical  music  of  Schu- 
bert  228 

Rhine,  associations  with  the260 
"Rhyme  of  the  Rail,"  quota- 
tion from 232 

Rhythm  of  feeling 246 


EX.  285 

Rip  Van  Winkle,  example  of  75 

Rods  and  Cones 55 

Rubinstein,    on   hours    for 

practice 88 

Rules  for  forming  habits 86 

Saul  and  his  evil  spirit 147 

Schools,  music  in 38 

Schubert,  his  poetic  music.. .228 
Schumann,  on  the  inner  ear, 
60;  on  Schubert's  music, 
228;  his  descriptive  music233 
Scripture,  Prof.,  grip  experi- 
ment  144 

Sculptures,  the  work  of  the 

imagination 199 

Scientific  imagination 207 

Search  for  causes 129 

Second  nature 76 

Secondary  laws  of  associa- 
tion  120 

Selective  process  in  imagina- 
tion  198 

Self-help 93 

Semicircular  canals 55 

Sense  imagination 200 

Sense  perception,  process  of  117 
Senses,  report  of,  to  different 

centers 117 

Sensory  nerves 50 

Sensuous,  feelings,  252;  ele- 
ment in  aesthetic  pleas- 
ure  258 

squence  of  ideas 115 

;ries  of  associated  ideas....l!5 

Showy  music 100 

Siddpns,  Mrs.,  referred  to.. ..191 
Significance    of   pathologic 

cases 165 

Skill,  how  possible 71 

Smith,  Nora  A.,  on  stories    188 

Solemnity  of  association 150 

Solomon,  on  training 110 

Songs,  influence  of 141 

Soul,  music  of,  19;  and  con- 
cept-life, 40;  behind  great 

works 100 

Spinal  cord 49 

Spiritual  element  in  music...  19 

Staff,  diagram  of 125 

Stage  fright,  remedy  for 90 


286 


INDEX. 


Stories,  as  an  educational 

agency 187 

Student,  a  truth-hunter 131 

Style,  musical,  improved  by 

memorizing 190 

Successive  association 11 5 

Summation  of  stimuli 121 

Sympathetic,  system,  50; 
study  of  great  musicians, 
104;  appreciation  of  mu- 
sic  223 

Sympathy,  value  of 86 

Synthetic  process  in  imagi- 
nation  198 

Talent  and  genius 33 

Tapper,  on  playing  without 

thought 60 

Taste,  a  cultured,  234;  of 

the  uncultured 265 

Teacher,  should  encourage 
the  pupils,  84;  his  man- 
ner   85 

Teaching,  by  parables,  187; 

by  stories 187 

Technique,  inferior  part  of 
music,  106;  should  rest 
on  scholarship,  106;  im- 
proved by  memorizing 189 

Thinking  tones 59 

Thought  and  music,  59; 
necessary  for  good  work, 
97;  mysterious  operation 

of.! * ... 114 

Thoughtlessness,   the  evils 

of 97 

Time,  for  memorizing  music, 
192;  for  cultivating  imag- 
ination  230 

Tone  of  feeling 245 

Tragedian  must  memorize.190 

Trained  mind,  beauty  of 3  25 

Training,  in  education 110 

Tyndall,  on  the  uses  of  imag- 
ination  209 

Tyranny  of  habit 77 


Unlearning  habits 79 

Undivided  attention 90 

Vain  musicians 106 

Value,  of  memorizing  music, 

189;   of  imagination    to 

the  musician 230 

Varieties  of  memory 167 

Vibrations,  perceptible  to 

the  senses 57 

Violinist,  who  is  the  great...  99 

Violin  players,  tricks  by 225 

Visualizing  habit 175 

Vividness,  examples  of 133 

Voice,  capacity  of 57 

Voluntary  attention,  law 

of 137 

"Wagner,  on  musical  clair- 

voyance,222;"Rheingold"261 
Waterloo  and  Eton  school  74 
Watt  and  the  tea-kettle  Iid208 
Wellington,  Duke  of ,  on  hab- 
it in  education 74 

West,    Benjamin,   and    his 

mother's  kiss 85 

Whately,  on  training 110 

Will,  power  of  necessary, 
94;  and  the  way,  94;  in- 
fluenced by  music,  143; 
nature  of  271;  freedom  of, 

273;  cultivation  of 274 

Wirt,  motto  of 92 

Wonders  of  memory 167 

Work,  the  condition  of  suc- 
cess, 92;  chief  pleasure  of 
Mozart,  92;  does  won- 
ders, 87 92 

Works  of  imagination 197 

Wrong  views  of  music 9 

Wundt,  on  after-effects  of 
nerve  action,  69;  on  aes- 
thetic feelings, 255 

Youth,  memory  in 157 

Youthful  associations 140 


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